Of Books and Boys

Book Review: The Quest

2012-01-27T08:36:00.001-08:00

I'll never forget the first time I met Bob Hostetler. I was at a writing conference at Wheaton College and working on an assignment to create a back cover for a possible book I might write. In my credentials, I mentioned having published an article in the British War Cry. As I showed my blurb to the instructor, he commented that I didn't need to identify it as the "British" War Cry. I went on to inform him that there were two different versions of this Salvation Army periodical. He replied, "I know. I was the editor at one time." Yowch! Immediately, the name clicked for me and I asked if he was related to my friend, Larry Hostetler. Indeed, he was a brother.

He urged me to try to connect with him on a more personal level during the conference. Of course, this was quite difficult. Every meal found him surrounded by delegates who really deserved his attention for writing-related questions. We did snag a few moments and then wrote a few limited letters back and forth.

It was a joy to meet him and to discover his excellent blog, The Desperate Pastor. I also thoroughly enjoyed learning of how he came to write his first book. He wrote from experience. His mother passed away when he was still young and during his high school years, he spent a good deal of time ditching school to hole up and read at home. This proved the impetus for a book about a good kid who develops a reputation for going AWOL in his book, They Called Me AWOL. It was a fun read and one I would highly recommend to teens.

For Christmas, I requested his most recent novel, The Quest. Bob has spent a fair amount of time working on books of Christian apologetics with fellow apologist, Josh McDowell. Their popular young adult book, Don't Check Your Brains at the Door, has recently been re-released. For this recent novel, he worked with Josh McDowell's son, Sean McDowell. Their premise is simple: "Everyone is searching. Not everyone knows it."

In The Quest, twenty-three year old Emma Seeger finds herself thrust into an unexpected journey when her father mysteriously disappears in Israel. She must work together with her despised step-mother (who took her father away by leading him to convert to Christianity, marrying him and dragging him off to Israel to work for a Christian mission). Emma doesn't want a thing to do with Christianity, but finds herself on a spiritual journey in the midst of her quest to find her father.

With a fast-paced plot, well-drawn characters, and plenty of intellectual arguments for the faith, The Quest is an excellent book for anyone questioning the existence of God and His plan for mankind. The book argues for intelligent design and the validity of the Bible. Although aimed at young adults, the story can be appreciated by all ages. If you find yourself asking how a person could believe in the existence of God or trust the Bible for evidence of His plan, then this would be a valuable read.

Book Review: A Perfect Mess

2012-01-24T09:09:00.000-08:00

When I read David Allen's book, Getting Things Done, I concluded that I really should get my act together and get more organized so that I could accomplish more in life. I typically fall prey to that theory society touts of organization leading to greater success. Now, I've discovered the flip side of those arguments.

In A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder: how crammed closets, cluttered offices, and on-the-fly planning make the world a better place, authors Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman have compiled loads of examples of instances where clutter and disorganization actually serve to make a person more effective. Although they are not advocating a slide into complete disorder, the authors clearly alleviate the guilt messy, undisciplined individuals are likely to feel over the mess they seem incapable of avoiding.

I don't know how many times, I have tried to get a handle on my piles of clutter and after organizing them and placing things where I think they belong, I discover that I cannot locate something which would have easily been located if the mess had merely been left alone. Despite the appearance of disarray, there is obviously a method to my madness and this book articulates clearly why those methods work for messy individuals. The case studies supporting the hidden benefits of mess were fascinating and comprehensive. These authors left no stone unturned. As the back cover description states, "Drawing on examples from business, parenting, cooking, the war on terrorism, retail, and even the meteoric career of Arnold Schwarzenegger, coauthors Abrahamson and Freedman demonstrate that moderately messy systems use resources more efficiently, yield better solutions, and are harder to break than neat ones."

I'm so glad to have found this book. I feel vindicated. My lack of an organized system is no better or worse than my husband's hyper-vigilant organizational methods ... just different. When I try to force myself into his mold, I am paralyzed. When he tries to use my methods, he feels intense anxiety. So, if you are a person who agonizes over your inability to get your act together and organize your life or your environs, agonize no more. Allow your clutter and mess to work for you and admire the creativity that flows when the mess is kept to a moderate level but not eliminated entirely.

Book Review: Sing Them Home

2012-01-23T10:25:00.000-08:00

While this was not a bad book ... the plot was interesting and engrossing, the characters were well-defined and the writing was, at times, beautifully lyrical ... it was just not as wholesome as I'd have liked. A Library Journal review snippet on the back cover asserts that the author shows her characters' "failings as they stumble, in a realistic and satisfying manner, toward better selves." I'm afraid I didn't see the characters necessarily become better. Plus, I was uncomfortable with the number of sexual exploits revealed in the book. I don't need that part of life in a book at all, unless it is absolutely necessary for the plot (which, in this case, I don't think it truly was, apart from establishing the relationship of the deceased with his mistress).

It was the description of the plot that enticed me into the story and, despite considering setting the book aside several time, kept me plowing through. Set in the state of Nebraska, Sing Them Home tells the tale of the Jones siblings who have been devastated already once by the disappearance of their mother during a particularly violent tornado in 1978. The story in the town is legend, but the children still have unresolved feelings about this event, even years later. Now, their father has suddenly died, in a storm, and they all begin to process this present grief along with the grief for their mother.

I enjoyed reading the fascinating cultural descriptions of the Welsh community in this small town of Emlyn Springs, Nebraska. The process of grief was also interesting to observe. However, I really couldn't appreciate the promiscuity and lack of morals in the characters. If I hadn't been connected enough to care about the resolution of what truly happened to their mother, I would not have continued reading.

Scorpion Sucker

2012-01-20T08:14:00.000-08:00

I almost forgot to post this until I saw the pictures in my camera. By far the most interesting Christmas present Trevor received this year was a scorpion sucker. We all cringed when we learned that he ate the whole thing - scorpion and all! I thought perhaps the scorpion would be encased in some plastic, but no, it was actually the middle of the sucker, just like a disgusting version of the Tootsie Pop!

Nothing says "Merry Christmas," like a scorpion sucker!

I'll Take the Pee Splatters

2012-01-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

Last night, at my book club meeting, several of the women began discussing the fine art of teaching your children to take on chores. One woman regaled us with hilarious descriptions of her daughters' slovenly habits. Apparently, their hair bands are strewn around the bathroom and hair clumps are everywhere. Band-aids are dropped wherever they are removed. Recently, the girls came to their mother to complain that the shower wasn't draining. At her wits' end, this mother introduced her daughters to the Zip-It. (I loved that this link showed a line of stockings all filled with Zip-its.) The story was side-splitting as this mother acted out the girls' disdain for the clumps of hairballs they dug out.

As much as I enjoyed the laughter, today I am counting my blessings. Yes, there are pee splatters around my toilets almost constantly, but I'll take that any day over endless clumps of hair and hair accoutrements. Sometimes we mothers-of-boys have to remind ourselves that the drops of urine are easily wiped up quickly with a Clorox wipe! Perhaps my boys' stockings should have been filled with wipes containers and a package of Fruit Loops - the perfect tool for perfecting aim!

Of course, I still need to do a better job of passing on the responsibilities of cleaning the bathrooms (we have FOUR and they tend to all be in use throughout the day). Perhaps if they were required to do the daily Clorox wipe-down, they might work on their aim a bit. Hopefully, they'll learn better aim and cleaning habits before they meet and marry some beautiful, slovenly long-haired beauty ... or they'll both have trouble. Ha!

Book Review: In the Company of Others

2012-01-17T11:04:00.000-08:00

Although I have heard of the Mitford series books, I have never before tried a Jan Karon book. While I found it slow-going at the beginning, I'm glad I persevered with this book. By the end, I felt like part of the community of characters and cried over the trials and tribulations they experienced.

The story follows Episcopal priest Tim Kavanagh as he journeys with his wife, Cynthia, to Ireland for a bit of vacation time. It seems their trip is doomed from the start with difficulties in scheduling. When an intruder startles Cynthia, she injures her leg, leaving them tied down to the small inn they have been staying in. Shortly after that, a beloved painting goes missing. The two get caught up in the mystery, while also getting caught up in reading an old diary from years gone by.

The book had an excellent message, but the message was secondary to the story. In the midst of a wonderfully woven tale, Karon manages to impart words of wisdom and encouragement to the reader. I was especially struck by the message of hope voiced in a passage where an alcoholic elderly woman is recounting to Cynthia how she has tried to keep her sisters and mother alive:

Cynthia states, "It's very wrong to keep the dead alive, for it keeps us from living truly. You must forgive yourself, Evelyn."

E: "I cannot."

C: "You must forgive God."

E: "I cannot."

C: "You cannot have peace without forgiveness."

E: "I do not deserve peace."

C: "It's what God wants us to have."

E: "Does God ask me what I want him to have? I want him to have pity, to have mercy, and the common decency to give us a life without struggle and disgrace."

C: "Oh, my. We can forget that last notion. He is formed, himself, of the greatest pity and mercy, but without struggle and even disgrace, how would we ever know him, run to him, seek his refuge? We would not."

That passage alone did my heart and soul good. As the front cover suggests, "Set against the music of Irish song and storytelling, In the Company of Others reminds us of our desperate need to be heard and the reconciliation that comes with confession." This was a very worthwhile read.

Shattering the Hall of Mirrors

2012-01-13T06:22:00.000-08:00

I'm on a journey back to God. He didn't leave me, but I certainly walked away from Him. I allowed a few significant life experiences to alienate me from the Lord and from several of His people (whose responses to my trials felt very un-Christlike). I entered a wilderness time and reacted much like the Israelites, with complaints about His provisions and doubt that His intentions were reliable on my behalf.

For quite a while, I've wanted to return, but the chasm seemed impassable. I think the thing that bridged that mighty gap was my return to Scripture. At the end of our CBLI encampment this year, I purchased a new NIV Bible. My old one had pretty much fallen apart (from previous use, not recent use). The prospect of a fresh clean Bible and a conviction that I really was neglecting the Word (one of several convictions resulting from an excellent course on Titus, taught by Linda Himes) propelled me into a commitment to read through the entire Bible and underline any verses which held significant meaning for me.

After finishing the NIV version, I decided to read the New Testament in The Message version. I have never read The Message version and must say that, so far, Romans has been my favorite. For today's reading, chapters 8 - 14, the section opened with the title "The Solution is Life on God's Terms." How true!

Several verses jumped out at me: "Focusing on the self is the opposite of focusing on God," "I don't think there's any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times," "refusing to really deal with God on his terms, insisting instead on making their own deals, they have nothing to show for it," and "No one who trusts God... - heart and soul - will ever regret it."

It goes on to say of the loyal to the Lord, "They're holding on, not because of what they think they're going to get out of it, but because they're convinced of God's grace and purpose in choosing them. If they were only thinking of their own immediate self-interest, they would have left long ago." In describing those who fail to hold on, it says, "The 'self-interest Israel' became thick-skinned toward God. Moses and Isaiah both commented on this: 'Fed up with their quarrelsome, self-centered ways, God blurred their eyes and dulled their ears, Shut them in on themselves in a hall of mirrors, and they're there to this day.'"

And I believe that is where I have been - trapped in a hall of mirrors, seeing only myself and the hardships I have been called upon to face. My eyes have blurred to His love and my ears have dulled to His voice. I began to convince myself that He really wasn't there, or if He was it was only in the shadows. What I didn't recognize was the focus of my perspective. I didn't know I was in a hall of mirrors.

Now, I'm determined to shatter that hall of mirrors. Just as I said focusing on losses deprives one of hope and joy, focusing on myself and the hardships of life causes me to be deprived of a closeness to my Maker, who is standing, anxious to call me back to Himself.

Another meaningful verse: "In one way or another, God makes sure that we all experience what it means to be outside so that he can personally open the door and welcome us back in." God persists in testing us and wooing us.

But my focus has to return to God, not away from myself and onto others. When I was living briefly in England, I was asked to give a devotional to the Upper Norwood Band (amazing, really, given that I was a woman and a very young person). In that devotional, I compared our walk with God to being a bandsmen. We cannot blindly play the part we think we're supposed to play. And we cannot listen to those around us to determine whether we are on the mark. The very best that we can do is to play our part, to the best of our ability, while focusing on the conductor of the music. Ignoring the conductor or focusing on the sounds of those around us both fall short of creating the best music.

With the father of the boy healed by Jesus in Mark 9:24, I say, "I believe. Help thou, my unbelief." I say, "shatter my personal hall of mirrors. Lift my eyes from myself and others and focus them on You."

Books Read in 2011

2012-01-11T07:47:00.000-08:00

This post is primarily for my own benefit and the benefit of my mother (who likes to keep the list of books I read in the past year). So, here is a list of the books I read in 2011. I think this was my most productive year ever, in terms of reading. I normally read between 30 and 40 books a year. For some reason, my appetite was ravenous in 2011.

We'll see what happens in 2012. I am planning to resume writing a personal journal, so this may take up more time than I used to spend and it may also diminish the number of blog posts I write. However, I think it will be beneficial, despite less reading and blogging.

Can't Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg
The Red Suit Diaries by Ed Butchart
Raising Cain by Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson
Follow the Star by T.D. Jakes
The Christmas Wedding by James Patterson and Richad DiLallo
A Season of Gifts by Richard Peck
Writing Great Books for Young Adults by Regina Brooks
The Whole-Brain Child by Daniel J. Siegel, MD and Tina Payne Bryson, PhD
Dancing with Rose by Lauren Kessler
Getting Things Done by David Allen
Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff
Runaway Twin by Peg Kehret
Are You in the House Alone? by Richard Peck
Don't Say I Didn't Warn You by Anita Renfroe
Till Death Do Us Bark by Kate Klise
A Soft Place to Land by Susan Rebecca White
The Mind's Eye by Oliver Sacks
I'd Know You Anywhere by Laura Lippman
The Pull of the Moon by Elizabeth Berg
Cries of the Heart by Ravi Zacharias
I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron
Captivating by John & Stasi Eldredge
Dracula by Bram Stoker
I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
The Sunflower by Richard Paul Evans
Saving Alice by David Lewis
The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson
Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
Man Walks into a Room by Nicole Krauss
The Secret Year by Jennifer R. Hubbard
Shades of Blue by Karen Kingsbury
Love, Aubrey by Suzanne LaFleur
Real Murders by Charlaine Harris
Minding Frankie by Maeve Binchy
Still Alice by Lisa Genova
Same Kind of Different as Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore
Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness
The Charming Quirks of Others by Alexander McCall Smith
Drums, Girls & Dangerous Pie by Jordan Sonnenblick
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
The Gift of Fear by Gavin deBecker
One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp
The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party by Alexander McCall Smith
Healing Sands by Nancy Rue & Stephen Arterburn
The Penguin Book of Victorian Women in Crime ed. by Michael Sims
The Double Comfort Safari Club by Alexander McCall Smith
Grounded by Kate Klise
Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo
The Ride of Our Lives by Mike Leonard
Healing Stones by Nancy Rue & Stephen Arterburn
Tea Time for the Traditionally Built by Alexander McCall Smith
Life Without Limits by Nick Vujicic
Hormones: Don't Let Them Ruin Your Life by Dr. Sandra Cabot
The Seventeen Second Miracle by Jason F. Wright
God's Forever Feast by Dr. Paul Brand
Healing Waters by Nancy Rue & Stephen Arterburn
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson
Though Waters Roar by Lynn Austin
Inside Narnia by Devin Brown
Andy Miller: A Legend and a Legacy by Henry Gariepy
The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis
The Power of the Powerless by Christopher de Vinck
The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis
Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis
The Horse and His Boy by C.S. Lewis
The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis
The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis
Rush Home Road by Lori Lansens

Book reviews for each of these books can be found by simply entering the title in the search box at the top of my blog.

Counting Up Losses

2012-01-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

In the past month, we have been racking up losses left and right. It is a source of real discouragement for me. Some of these losses are small, but some are rather large. Some were poor investments. Some were careless losses. Each of them provides its own sting.

Recent toy purchases have ranked in as losses. It seems so difficult to guage what toys will hold up to my boys' sometimes less than careful use. There's the small motorcycle set which broke while Sean was showing them at sharing time at school. Two different 3-D shark models, whose fins snapped off within hours of opening. A window cling art kit which fell to pieces immediately upon completion. Hex bugs whose battery life was exhausted after only a few days' worth of playing time.

My favorite purchase of all this Christmas had to be the Smart Lab's Weird and Wacky Contraption Lab. It is basically a kit for creating your own Rube Goldberg machine. While it was a big hit, the pieces are all small and easily broken and the velcro board backing material is already pulling off the wall where they are supposed to mount the individual motion-creating pieces. Will it endure much more use? Time will tell. For the price, one would certainly hope to get more than a few weeks' worth of play out of the toy.

Then there are the losses due to carelessness. Trevor received quite a few small Gogos Crazy Bones for Christmas (one of his latest fixations) to add to his growing collection. He took them to school (against parental advice) and after showing them around on the bus, placed them in his backpack in the cubby at school. No doubt, you can imagine what happened. They have disappeared. Gone in an instant. Also, Bryce left his special calculator in a class at school and is now in need of a replacement.

Finally, there are the losses due to bad investments. A while back, I wrote a post about the purchase of the nail buffing kit. At the outset, I declared that I'm a natural sort of girl. I rarely wear make-up or do my nails. Yet, I was hooked in. I took the bait. It sounded so appealing that with minimal effort I could have shiny, well-groomed nails. However, I have only used the nail buffer and cuticle oil ONCE. It isn't that it is time-consuming. I just don't bother taking the time. Plus, I managed to drop the entire container of cuticle oil on the floor, watching it shatter and imagining the number of dollars I wiped up with paper towels.

Lured by a special coupon and sale at J.C. Penney, I purchased not one, but four new bras. I was assisted by the sales clerk and at the time, really felt that we had landed on a good-fitting bra. They only had one available in my size, but she assured me that we could place the order and I would still secure the "buy two get two free" deal. I have been wearing the new bra and have discovered that the fit isn't as good as I had thought. Now instead of having made one poor investment, it feels terrible to have made four bad investments in that area.

But the largest disappointment in my life right now has to be the expensive new mattress set we purchased just prior to my family's annual Christmas visit. We had decided to get rid of the mis-matched twin beds in the guest room and purchased a lovely used queen headboard. Our plan was to shift our old mattress set into the guest room and purchase a nice new set for our own bed.

Alas, this purchase has felt devastating. You spend one third of your life in bed. I crave good sleep. I abhor back pain. Unfortunately, I think we were in a hurry to just get the job done. We had been to one other store, where I had marveled at the cushiony feel of the Tempur-pedic beds. My husband declared he probably couldn't sleep on something that conformed to his body. Thus, we walked into American Mattress, laid down on the first bed the sales clerk directed us to and after briefly trying two others, determined that the first set was the one for us.

Of course, then came the haggling. I was hoping to spend around $700. My husband was willing to go higher since "a good bed is so important." In the end, the sales clerk sold us the floor model for $1300, six hundred dollars less than the indicated price. We felt we had just secured a really good deal: a high quality Sealy mattress for hundreds of dollars less than the display cost.

We eagerly awaited the delivery of our new mattress set. But, the very first night, I knew the problem was going to be great. It felt like sleeping on a brick. I barely slept and when I woke, I felt stiff and achy. I immediately reported my displeasure to my husband. He felt the bed was fine. He declared that he can sleep on pretty much anything (excepting, of course, a tempur-pedic mattress - ha). After several days of really hating this bed, he suggested I wait it out and then return to the store to refamiliarize myself with their "comfort-guarantee policy."

So, what is their comfort-guarantee policy? I have to sleep on the bed for two weeks and then I have up until the one month point to request an exchange. The hitch? I can only exchange UP. I cannot select a cheaper model and just eat the loss. No, I have to purchase a MORE EXPENSIVE mattress set and pay the difference in price. The clerk showed me the next level up and it would require paying an additional $600 to what we already paid. There was no way I could do that and even if I did, there's no guarantee that the more expensive bed would be any easier to sleep on. So, at this point, we feel stuck. We plan to move the uncomfortable mattress to the guest room (we already have too infrequent a need for the guest room - I would love to have more visitors - and now they'll be anxious to leave once they arrive because of the poor sleep they will experience while here - sob). We've talked about trying to sell the mattress set, but I'm not sure we want people trooping through our home to view a potential purchase. We are, indeed, between a rock and a HARD PLACE!

So, I've been mulling over what to do with the extreme discouragement these losses have wrought in me. The only thing I can come up with is to eat the losses and cling to material things less vehemently. "It is only money," I try to tell myself. Some days this argument works. Some days I still feel pangs of disappointment. I don't want to tally up the actual financial cost of all these losses. It would devastate me. Instead, I want to learn something from it. I want to take away some sort of life lesson.

I don't think I'll be able to fully avoid further losses like this. In some ways, they are inevitable. Things will break or be lost. What seems like a good investment at the time, will, upon reflection, be shown to be a poor investment. So the best I can do is to weigh things as carefully as possible before purchase and then accept the losses when they come.

In fact, instead of focusing on the losses, I think I should probably shift my perspective. We were recently watching the movie "Soul Surfer." The youth pastor shows the youth group a series of slides and asks them to identify what turns out to be a fly's eye or a walnut. She encourages them to gain perspective by stepping away from the immediate appearance. Indeed, we watched Bethany Hamilton gain the perspective she so desperately needed. She had lost one arm, while the people of Thailand had lost home and loved ones in a devastating tsunami.

I am choosing to learn her lesson. I have so much to be grateful for. The very fact that we could afford to plunk down $1300 on a mattress set is alone cause for rejoicing, regardless of the fact that we may be sleeping on our same old set for years to come. Our children have more toys than they really need. Perhaps the new owners of the Gogos and calculator needed them more than we did. Who knows. But, I'm ready to let go of these losses and move on. Clinging was just wrecking my mood.

In light of more significant losses, like the loss of your child's health or life, my losses are extremely minimal and pointless to grieve. But they are still losses and I will still grieve them. I just don't want the grief to overwhelm me and suck my hope and joy.

I follow several families battling the devastation of cancer. Recently, Coleman Larson's family observed the three year anniversary of his death. Even though I don't know them personally, in sharing in their journey and supporting them in prayer, I feel some small modicum of their loss. What always amazes and inspires me is that they choose to cling to hope and daily battle for the best perspective. Yet, I've also watched other families who choose to wear their loss as a badge of distinction - basically declaring "noone else's loss is as devastating as mine and therefore I will remain here in the trenches of despair and refuse to go on because my child was ripped out of my hands before their time." Living in the constant light of loss rips all possibilities of joy and fulfillment from a person.

Although I've lost a child, in miscarriage, my loss is nothing compared to these losses. But I think the method for dealing with loss remains the same. We all face losses of some kind or other, be they big or small. It is what we do with the loss that determines our ability to go on and to cling to hope and faith.

I am hoping for a change in fortune in this coming year. Scripture mentions that there is a time for loss and a time for gain. Would that 2012 reveal itself to be full of equally significant gains to cover those losses we've experienced in the past month. I would wish the same for anyone facing loss, be it small or great (like the anticipated loss of a loved one I am watching for a family we vaguely knew when we lived back in DeKalb). Their loss, at this point, is inevitable. I pray that God would comfort them in their extreme, unspeakable loss and provide them with a time of gain and the ability to retain hope and joy in the midst of their suffering.

Loss is a fact of life. Our perspective in the face of loss is our choice. Thankfully, life isn't limited to this realm alone. There is a future where these momentary losses will be far obscured. I'm clinging to that hope, that future and trying to cling less to the losses of the here and now. I'm trying to claim Bethany Hamilton's life lesson and focus on what I do have rather than what I've lost. Even though my losses are small, in light of life and death, some days I live out the lesson better than others. Now that I've counted up my minimal losses, I'm going to let them go and try to change my perspective so that I can cling to hope and joy.

Book Review: Before I Go to Sleep

2012-01-02T09:32:00.001-08:00

I had read that this was a book that couldn't be put down. I waited weeks on the library's waiting list. When it finally came, and I had time for reading, I read it in the space of 24 hours! It was truly a page-turner. However, my feelings about the book are mixed.

The premise was an interesting one. Christine Lucas suffers from a particular form of amnesia. Every night when she goes to sleep, her memory of her life is erased. She awakens each day with only the memories of her childhood. She cannot remember what happened the day before. Her husband must walk her through her identity and her life's activities. He has placed photographs on the bathroom mirror which identify Christine and Ben, himself, as her husband. Every day he explains to her that she lost her memories when she suffered severe head trauma from an accident. However, as she begins to work with Dr. Nash on keeping a journal of what memories she can access, she begins to realize that her husband is not providing her with the truth.

While it was an interesting idea to explore - the loss of memory and how that shatters one's sense of self and even expectations for a future - it was also tiresome to have to review and repeat the same thing over and over (as it, no doubt, would be to someone who actually suffers from this type of ailment - an actual possibility, since the author attributes the idea to association with real amnesiac patients). Still, I did continue to read on awaiting the solution of what the real truth was and the revelation of what caused Christine to enter this state in the first place.

I still cannot say that I liked it as well as many other reviews I had encountered. It was good, but a bit tedious at times. Given this is a first novel, I'd have to extend kudos to the author for a valiant effort and a stimulating plot idea. The writing is easy to read and the pace sensible. I just didn't find it to be one of my favorites. I suppose it was compelling, but not redemptive in its take-away.

Book Review: Can't Wait to Get to Heaven

2011-12-31T18:02:00.000-08:00

Elner Shimfissle is quite a character! Her name alone is sassy, unusual and fun. As a character, she carries this book along from beginning to end. She is a high-spirited octogenarian who insistently picks her own figs on a tall ladder. Alas, she encounters a swarm of hornets, triggering a horrendous fall and an adventure she never expected.

Although the author's presented view of the after-life doesn't square with mine (the creator is embodied by two elderly friends of Elner who make cake, smoke, and wonder about mistakes they might have made in their creation ... my creator doesn't need to wonder about mistakes He's made and is not made in human image), this was still a delightful tale. The story was fun and entertaining. The characters were lively and quirky. The plot twists were interesting and unexpected.

The author's answers to the questions, "Why are we here?" and "What's the purpose of life?" were a bit simplistic (things like "to be as happy as we can be" and "to make life better and better as we learn to get along"). There were many times when I was scratching my head, wondering if the author really holds to this world-view she presents. It wasn't a favorite book of mine, but the story kept me listening. If you are looking for depth or a Christian perspective, look elsewhere. But, if you are welcome to a fun, romping tale of one person's life and positive influence on others, then you might enjoy this book.

Book Review: The Red Suit Diaries

2011-12-30T18:37:00.000-08:00

This was another attempt to find an inspiring Christmas read. While the book was somewhat entertaining (interesting tid-bits about what it is like to play a professional Santa), it didn't exactly live up to my aspirations of an inspiring, heart-warming Christmas read.

In The Red Suit Diaries: A Real-Life Santa on Hopes, Dreams, and Childlike Faith, Ed Butchart chronicles his rise to the position of professional Santa. He shares vignettes from his experiences. Mostly he encourages people to seek the spirit of love embodied in Santa and maintain that child-like faith exhibited by so many children during this time of year.

My own sons decided that they were too big to visit Santa and sit on his lap this year. I'm pretty sure that Trevor is on the verge of giving up the idea of Santa. I don't have a problem with him believing in Santa. I don't think it detracts from the real meaning of Christmas (he is aware of the significance of Jesus' birth). And I have enjoyed watching his wonder, but I also won't be crushed when he loses that wonder. Indeed, I'm assuming he will pull his little brother along with him.

For now, we did enjoy taking their letters to Santa at a local library and then receiving back a personally written letter from Santa. Trevor was able to send along a drawing of a shark, which really impressed Santa.

I don't believe I would ever want the job of portraying Santa, nor will I ever be asked, I'm sure. I'll settle for reading the light-hearted anecdotes of one Santa who makes it his business to treat children with kindness and love.

Book Review: Raising Cain

2011-12-29T18:16:00.000-08:00

In Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, authors and child psychologists Dan Kindlon and Michael Thompson focus on the emotional needs of boys. While society tends to paint boys and men as being macho strong, males have just as many emotional needs as girls do and sometimes these needs are overlooked because they are expected to behave as "strong men."

The authors argue that emotional literacy is one of the most important things we can bestow upon our sons. The beginning of the book emphasized the strong desire men have for connection, especially with their fathers. When that connection is absent, it affects the man in all parts of his life. Teachers are encouraged to deal with typical needs for more physical movement during the school day. Parents are urged to assist sons in developing empathy by showing empathy themselves and revealing some of their deepest struggles and difficulties.

I think the aspects of this book which I found the most disturbing were the statistics given for general use of alcohol, drugs, and sexual involvement by high school boys. The book opened the door for me to have an open talk with my own teenage son about these temptations. He felt that the statistics were fairly accurate, even if he isn't involved in any of those things (thank the Lord).

While the book did provide a thorough glimpse into the inner lives of boys, I don't believe it is as seminal a work in the field of "parenting sons" literature as touted on the front cover. It did seem to have a liberal bent to it. Still, it was a worthwhile read and certainly could only benefit any parent wishing to connect more fully with their sons.

Down Memory Lane

2011-12-24T12:56:00.000-08:00

Recently I unearthed two boxes full of nostalgic items. The first box contained bundles of letters from about five or six good friends. These letters were written to me during my year long exile in South Dakota (my parents were moved there during my senior year of high school and, to me, it felt like outer Siberia). I had to chuckle when my best male correspondent wrote: "Could you send me some more of those xeroxed photos of South Dakota? I'm planning on starting a collection of South Dakota xeroxed pictures." Ha! I had sent him two photos from my text book for my required South Dakota History class.

It was great fun reading through some of these letters again. It made me long for a really good correspondence again. My friend, Brian, wrote to me faithfully (about every other week) during my final two years of high school and all through college. He was funny and open and often our correspondence covered deep subjects. I thoroughly miss that blessing in my life.

The second box contained little knick-knacks from the past. I especially loved seeing these key chains from London and from Disney World. This pencil gripper bears the memory of a punishment where I had to write a certain sentence several hundred times before I could go to camp. Wonder if that exercise altered my actions or mood? Plus, it was a joy to see my old Northern Illinois Youth Band patch (so many happy memories of times in the youth band) and a special sachet gift from a friend in college.

My husband would complain that I save too much, but in moments like these, I'm grateful to have hung on to things which give me such deep, happy memories.

Proof of Boys

2011-12-23T12:54:00.000-08:00

You know you have boys when your reminder board looks like this:

Book Review: Follow the Star

2011-12-21T20:13:00.000-08:00

So far, T.D. Jakes' Follow the Star: Christmas Stories That Changed my Life has been my favorite holiday read. Since the book contains 20 brief chapters, or stories, I intended to read one story each night before bed. This became a problem, because I couldn't stick with just one story. I felt compelled to keep reading.

Full of childhood memories, hardships and blessings, and real spiritual wisdom, this book is sure to warm your heart and soul during the holiday season. Each story is touching and poignant, filled with insight and joy. Many of the stories make direct appeals to change the reader's way of thinking and chart them on a course to something new.

I thoroughly enjoyed this read and might make it a yearly fare. Perhaps next year, I'll be able to limit myself to one story per day, as I had intended.

Book Review: The Christmas Wedding

2011-12-16T11:51:00.000-08:00

While I enjoyed the last Christmas book, I cannot say the same for this James Patterson book. I have heard the name James Patterson. He must be a very popular novelist. From the reading of this book, I cannot understand why. The only thing that kept me listening was a slight desire to discover which prospective groom won out in the end. It wasn't worth the wait.

To begin with, the constant cursing was a problem for me. Now, there are times when I can read a book which contains cursing and not allow it to get under my skin, but this cursing came with a general air of low-class, immoral, dregs-of-life situations and characters. I can handle cursing if the story trumps the cursing. Not so here.

Gabi Summerhill hasn't had all four of her children together to celebrate Christmas since the death of her husband, their father, three years ago. Instead of just asking them all to come, she sends them all a video chat, enticing them with the information that she has received proposals from not one, but three prospective suitors. The three men have all been part of her life for many years and are all good friends. Each of her children, Emily, Claire, Lizzie, and Seth are dealing with their own dilemmas, but they make the time to come because Gabi has held the mystery of the groom over everyone's heads, including the prospective grooms.

The story line was a bit far-fetched, but my biggest complaint was that the story held no important take-away. You learn and gain nothing from listening (I needed a good audio book for the car) or reading this story. In the end, her choice is even a bit of a let down. Everything wraps up nicely, but you don't feel warmth or any inspiration. I was greatly disappointed by this book. In fact, I wish I hadn't wasted my time on it.

Book Review: A Season of Gifts

2011-12-14T20:08:00.000-08:00

This was another delightful read featuring the inimitable Grandma Dowdel, first introduced in the award winning book, A Long Way From Chicago. Richard Peck is a master at presenting small-town Midwestern life. He also does an amazing job of persistently writing, having churned out 39 books in the last 39 years. Wow!

I selected this one based on the delightful cover (which shows Grandma Dowdel and the narrator scrambling away with Christmas trees tied to the roof of the car) since the Christmas season is upon us. I didn't know that it featured Grandma Dowdel, but that was a definite plus. It made me want to read A Long Way from Chicago and A Year Down Yonder all over again.

In this episode, Grandma Dowdel takes the new preacher family under her wing as they encounter local bullies, engage in dangerous crushes and endeavor to win over a new congregation. Grandma Dowdel behaves in the manner she has become famous for, but she also bestows gifts upon her neighbors in her own special way.

If you are looking for a light-hearted, quick Christmas read, look no further. Richard Peck has written a timeless tale, sure to delight and tickle both children and adults during the holidays.

Favorite Christmas Decorations

2011-12-12T11:07:00.001-08:00

My boys are destructive. There's no way around admitting it. Sometimes I think that eventually they will have broken every thing that is special to me in any way. Thus, I feel it necessary to document these special things before they are gone forever. Ha!

Here are a few of my favorite Christmas decorations. This post was prompted by the destruction of one of my elves in the walking elf decoration. I was able to glue the cracked foot back together and it does work fine ... for now. I purchased this at a House of Lloyds sale back when my parents lived near Kansas City. I cannot even find House of Lloyds on the Internet. It seems they were bought out by another company. I doubt I'll come upon one of these walking elf decorations again in my lifetime.

Another favorite, which has also been broken and repaired on two occasions, is my spinning carousel decoration. I found this at a garage sale and fell in love with it. My initial repair, back when Bryce broke it, was much better than the present one, but you can still get a feel for the appeal of this decoration.

Finally, I love this moving Santa decoration. It was a gift from a very dear friend, Beth. It holds such sentimental value. True to form, the boys used to pick it up by the hat and for a short time, it wouldn't move. Somehow it came back to life ... a Christmas miracle. I pray it has a good long life (although, I'm pretty sure I could replace this one - we saw a larger one, just like it, at our dentist office the other day).

Book Review: Writing Great Books for Young Adults

2011-12-08T17:40:00.000-08:00

Last year, I impulsively entered the first 250 words of my Nanowrimo novel for a young adult novel discovery contest. Two hundred and fifty words is a hard sell, let me tell you. Last year's novel didn't even really reveal the basis of the plot in the first several hundred words. Personally, I don't think that's too much of a problem, because although the initial words need to be tight and draw the reader in, a published book has the benefit of an attractive cover and blurbs on the inside and back to pull in prospective readers. But, I understand the drive to really hone the beginning, since that is what will entice or repel an editor.

The primary judge in the novel discovery contest is Regina Brooks. I think the reason I knee-jerked last year was my desire to be one of the first 50 entrants, who then receive Regina's book, Writing Great Books for Young Adults. This year, I made it a point to read the book prior to and during my Nanowrimo attempt. I also honed my initial 250 words of this year's novel and sent them in (it can't hurt to try and every year I participate, I practice making my novels more enticing).

This book is an outstanding explanation of writing for young adults. Its structure makes it an easy read. Plus, it contains all kinds of extra comments by authors and editors in the business. Writing for young adults is not like writing for adults. You have to really hook them in quickly and they will not tolerate any extraneous fluff that detracts from the main story line. They want a good story and one that keeps them turning pages. Otherwise, they'll head for their I-pod or other electronic entertainment devices.

I especially appreciated the break-down of thirty-six dramatic situations, the descriptions of the advantages and disadvantages of the various points of view an author can write from, the listing of common themes, and the questions to ask as you review your manuscript or pitch it to an agent.

I would certainly recommend this book to any writer who is interested in writing young adult novels. Of course, now that I've read the book, I have to continue putting the lessons into practice and keep honing my manuscripts and my writing skills. Thankfully, that still feels fun for me.

Recent Kid Book Favorites

2011-12-05T16:36:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I have to return three books to the library because we've renewed them EIGHT times and have run out of renewal options. This means we've had these books for twenty seven weeks! The thing is, we are really sad to return them. They have been our favorite books during that time. I may just have to run out and buy them now.

The first is Rock, Brock and the Savings Shock. I can't believe how much my boys loved and learned from this book. It is the story of twins Rock and Brock, who are very different. One is tidy and perfect and the other is a total slob. But, the tidy one spends money like water running through a sieve and the other saves like the tiny gremlin character in The Hobbit clings to his ring, calling it "my precious." Gramps offers them a deal. He will pay them $1 every Saturday for mowing his lawn and washing his car. However, if they save the money, he will double whatever they have. My boys began chanting the progression of savings: 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512. Trevor's first grade teacher was amazed when she overheard my four year old reciting these numbers. I'm amazed that they clearly understood the principals presented and took them to heart.

The second book, I Always, Always Get My Way, tells of a three year old girl who milks her mother's sympathies for her tender years. The child is a whirling dervish of disaster, spilling orange juice on her father, tramping mud into the home, getting into her siblings' belongings. My boys loved the rhyme and loved watching the main character wreak havoc in her home.

The final book is When Pigasso Met Mootisse. It is obviously the story of the relationship between Picasso and Matisse, but told with the main characters in pig and cow form. This book was udderly delightful (sorry, I couldn't help myself). It is full of clever puns (an art attack, a pork of art, a moosterpiece, etc.). The illustrations are bold and charming. My boys even enjoyed listening to the realistic account of the two artists at the back of the book.

We are sad to see these books go back to the library, but heartily recommend them and feel obligated to let other patrons discover the pure gold within these spines.

Certificate Glory

2011-11-29T09:29:00.000-08:00

My boys are always asking, "Why do you write a novel in the month of November just so you can get a certificate saying you're a winner?" Ha! Of course, that isn't the only reason I choose to attempt to write a novel. But, I'm very grateful to the Nanowrimo organization for coming up with this grand enterprise and for the simple certificate which shows that I'm a winner:

As I was printing out this year's winner's certificate, Bryce caught me and said, "Don't exit. I want a certificate, too." I watched as he typed in his name, using his own special language (where he replaces vowels with an "er" sound) and then titled his book, "Ther Ermerercern Ernglersh Dercternerer." I'm pretty sure that phony certificate is the closest my number one son will ever get to writing a novel. Still, I'm glad he makes me laugh!

Nanowrimo Success in 2011

2011-11-27T18:18:00.000-08:00

I did it! In fact, this year was the best year yet. The words came easily and quickly. I finished in the least amount of time, with the highest number of words. Plus, I don't think the novel is too bad. It does need some editing and I'm hoping to find some constructive criticism from some readers, but otherwise, I feel quite pleased with this year's Nanowrimo endeavor. Yippee!

Book Review: The Whole-Brain Child

2011-11-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

I cannot recommend this intuitive parenting book enough. Perhaps it was due to my love of the subject of the human brain. Perhaps it was due to my own needs to integrate more fully the various aspects of my own brain. Whatever the reason, I found myself wanting to go out and buy a copy of this book (which I had secured from our library's recent release shelf).

One of its major strengths is the excellent structure which makes the book very easy to follow and utilize. It provides 12 strategies for nurturing a child's developing mind. The strategies are easy to remember and make complete sense.

The authors explain the various regions of the brain - left (logical, literal, linear) and right (emotions, images, memories, communication) hemispheres, and upper (thinking) and lower (feeling) parts of the brain. By understanding more fully the parts of the brain, we are able to navigate the waters of life to avoid chaos, on the one hand, and rigidity, on the other. It was immediately clear where my own integration issues lie. I tend to be much more right brained and lower brained.

As I read the book, and the various suggested steps for helping children achieve better brain integration, I observed my own parent use some of these strategies. I called my parents to share with them an aspect of the future that I am greatly fearing. My father used the first strategy ("Connect and Re-direct") to help me get away from the overwhelming stream of fear and into a more rational state about the situation. He connected with my right brain and then redirected with my left brain. After talking, I didn't feel so distraught. It was a perfect example of what I was busy reading.

The second strategy could also be useful in my own life. It is called "Name it to tame it: telling stories to calm big emotions." This is a tactic used when something traumatic causes a child to get stuck in lower brain responses. The clearest example I can think of is the trauma I experienced at age three when I received 64 shots within eight days. The effects of this experience still linger to this day. Every time I talk it through, though, I become better able to construct ways of dealing with the anxieties I feel in medical situations.

Some of my favorite things about the book were the sections where they offered pictorial lessons for using with your children to explain some of the principals, as well as sections devoted to helping a parent achieve better brain integration. They also provide a reference guide at the end of the book where they break the lessons down into the various ages and stages children go through.

Overall, I find myself wanting to read the book again next year, to continue to fully learn the strategies offered here. Another thing they provide is a refrigerator sheet that breaks down each of the twelve strategies for quick reference. This is a highly practical and interesting book. It is a wonderful resource for parents who wish to help their kids grow and thrive.

Book Review: Dancing With Rose

2011-11-20T13:02:00.001-08:00

I was entirely absorbed in listening to this audio book, by Lauren Kessler, which was about finding life in the land of Alzheimer's. I cannot explain the pull I feel towards literature about Alzheimer's. I don't know of anyone close to me with the disease, and yet I find myself time and again picking up books about it.

This book was a memoir of sorts. The author's own mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and she felt that she hadn't handled the diagnosis very well. She expresses the fear, denial, shock, and distance she felt towards her mother and the disease. Thus, after her own mother's death, Kessler decides to redeem herself by really getting to know people with the disease and those who provide their care. She did this by filling a job in an Alzheimer's care facility. There she discovered first-hand the tireless efforts of the minimum wage workers who serve as Resident Assistants.

Her story is eye-opening and refreshing. She comes to see that Alzheimer's is not a tragic sentence, but a disease that frees the individual to remain entirely in the present. She encounters Alzheimer's patients who are endearing and who live a full, enjoyable life. She explains the idiosyncrysies that come with the disease like hyper-sensitivity to touch and a freedom from the constraints of social dictums. It was a pleasure to hear her descriptions of some of these patients and her interactions with them.

I don't know that I could ever take on, even temporarily, the job Kessler did (I even buck at the demands of my small children, who are, thankfully, sweet enough some of the time to redeem the moments of frustration). I suppose that is how Kessler came to view these patients. I'm just glad to have been able to vicariously experience along with her something that I don't quite feel up to.

Book Review: Getting Things Done

2011-11-11T20:24:00.000-08:00

In Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity, David Allen encourages readers to get to a place of "mind-like-water" in their connection to productivity. He believes that the secret to being more productive lies in assessing all that is in your psyche to do and take care of and assigning it an action to get you calmly on the road to completion of these tasks or ideas.

I will have to say that I was hopeful that the book would teach me to make better use of my time at home and end the day with more accomplished, but I was also skeptical that the lessons, geared towards professionals and business-people, would be able to be fleshed out in my home environment. Bryce kept asking me why I was listening to the book. I think he found it tedious. At times, I did, too, but I stuck with it.

I think the final section benefited me the most because it enabled me to see myself in many of the characteristics he listed of creative individuals who are often the worst procrastinators. Frankly, the whole book was like getting inside of the mind of my husband, who lives under the dictates of lists and files and is highly organized. I am a disorganized, creative sort and frankly, I fit the author's profile perfectly and recognized many of the reasons he suggested for why intelligent individuals fight this structure most vehemently.

The book clearly taught me that when I don't take care of things which need to be handled or completed, it lingers in my brain as unfinished business and keeps me from being calm and fulfilled. My own procrastination shoots myself in the foot, because it keeps those numerous plates still spinning, instead of finishing their rotation and moving them off the sphere of consciousness.

I doubt I'll be able to incorporate all the lessons (and I did find myself wishing I had read the book instead of listening on CD, since it came with bonus organizational charts and explanations) from the book. I won't become a type A person just because I listened to someone who champions the behaviors of the type A individual. To some extent, that is just not me (I cannot imagine going through every inch of my house and psyche to list and gather things that need my attention - I think my brain would go into overload!), but I will try to be more productive. Plus, I will be more thankful for my husband's lists and files mentality. At least one of is highly productive!

A Godly Heritage

2011-11-08T18:21:00.000-08:00

One of my friends posted this photo on Facebook today and tagged me. She found it on e-bay, where they are selling press photos of The Salvation Army.

This is a photo of my Dad. If the picture were larger (showed a wider frame of reference), I'm pretty sure I might have been in the picture, too. My dad and I used to get up early and, before school started, head down to the elevated train station near us in Chicago. We would play duets from the Christmas carol tune book. I can see the bell of an alto horn in the side of the picture. I'm guessing it is me.

This photo brings back such wonderful memories. I loved playing duets with my dad, even if it did mean rising extra early (something I've never been fond of). And seeing this photo reminds me of what a godly heritage I've been given. My dad is a man after God's own heart and what a gift that has been.

It's Nanowrimo Time Again

2011-11-05T19:03:00.000-07:00

November has come around again and I am passionately plugging away at another novel. I can't say that it is my best work to date. With the other two novels (written in 2009 and 2010) I had already ruminated on the ideas for a good many years before writing. This year I had a novel idea that I had been tossing around in my head for many months. But then a few days before the Nanowrimo challenge began, I came up with another idea.

Although the writing is flowing fairly easily (I ended the first day with 3643 words, the second day with 6,216, the third with 10,509, and the fourth with 12,696), I still think my characters are coming off as flat and the pacing is too stiff. Of course, these are things which can be edited and worked with later.

The main thing that I'm finding is that the writing is so completely energizing for me. When I am focused on writing, I feel like my days matter and I look forward to accomplishing the best I can.

What's more, I receive accolades from my kids. Every day they guess what word count level I have achieved. Bryce said he cannot believe I can write 4,000 words in one day. It is something he could never imagine doing.

I don't get those kinds of positive reinforcements for my regular mothering role. It's not like he comes to me and says, "Wow! Mom! I'm so impressed that you were able to get that ketchup stain out of my favorite white shirt! Thanks so much!" or "These toilets are pristine. Didn't I just spray all over in here a few hours ago??" or "This meal is the best meal I've ever eaten in my life!" Nope, those kinds of comments never come.

Last night, Bryce gave me the best encouragement yet. I remarked that I thought the pacing was making the novel boring and if a teen were really reading it, they might get bored and stop reading. He replied, "Well, if Golding can win a Nobel Peace Prize for Lord of the Flies (a novel he is reading for class), and it is the most boring novel I've ever tried to read, then you shouldn't worry so much!" Ha!

Heck, if it weren't so much strenuous work - cranking out all these words - I might wish Nanowrimo took place every month!

Weekend in DeKalb

2011-11-03T13:10:00.000-07:00

Since I'm going to be fairly busy writing a novel during the month of November (NANOWRIMO), I thought I would save some family updates for later. A few weekends back, the little boys and I drove all the way up to a friend's house in Wisconsin to pick up a picture, then drove down to DeKalb for a day.

Trevor's favorite part of our time in DeKalb would have to be the time we spent at the skate park. He is sincerely wishing that criminal activity hadn't closed the one closest to us (a half hour away - but that seems close when you live in the country). Here are some shots of the boys at the skate park:

It cracked me up when, in the middle of skating, Trevor decided he had to stop for a moment to get his black book and draw something cool in it. So Trevor!

After our time at the skate park, we stopped in to visit with our old friends, Andy and Renee, and their five children. The boys had a wonderful time playing with the kids and I enjoyed some quiet conversation with grown-ups.

Friday night, we drove out to Waterman, IL, to ride Pete's Train. This was a tradition I used to keep with my oldest son for years, back when we lived in DeKalb. Back then, the train was free. This time, we were charged a $7.00 per person fee for the pumpkin train (including picking a SMALL pumpkin from a patch mid-way through the ride) and a walk through a small, boring haunted house. It seemed like there were less lights than there used to be. Plus, it was definitely not worth $7.00 ($3, maybe, but $7??).

Here you can see that Trevor was none to excited to start with:

Plus, he felt compelled to do the thinker pose for the final picture!

On Saturday, we rounded out our visit with a trip to the free STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) conference at the DeKalb Convocation Center. The advertisements had shown one of those large balls filled with electricity, where the slightest touch causes your hair to stand on end. I had lured them into this activity with promises of seeing this hands-on display. Sadly, we never found such a booth or exhibit. Rats!

Still, the boys enjoyed the various booths:

Robots lifting inflated tubes to place on a pole.

Sean dressed in the full regalia of a scientist in the Antartic.

By the time we were finishing walking around and seeing tons of cool things (balls that balance in mid-air, foil boats which hold numerous pennies, optical illusions, light-up sticks, etc.) the boys were exhausted and ready to head home.

Book Review: Eleven

2011-10-29T10:50:00.000-07:00

Patricia Reilly Giff is an author recommended to me by my mother. Ever since she read Pictures of Hollis Woods, she has been on the look-out for other Giff books. Thus, when I happened upon this book, Eleven, at the library book sale, I had to add it to my bulging bag of books for a dollar.

Eleven tells the story of Sam MacKenzie, a boy turning the magical age of eleven. When Sam sneaks up to the attic to look for his birthday presents he stumbles onto a locked metal box. A newspaper clipping is peaking out from the box and even though Sam struggles with reading, he is able to make out a picture of himself at the age of three and the words "Sam Bell" and "missing." Sam approaches the new girl, Caroline, to ask for help in reading the strange documents in his attic. Together they forge a fast friendship and uncover further clues to Sam's past and the mystery of the newspaper clipping.

This was a quick, easy read, sure to appeal to boys and girls in the 8 to 12 age range. However, even as a grown-up, it tugged at my heart strings. It is no wonder why Giff is a two-time Newbery Honor-winning author.

Book Review: Runaway Twin

2011-10-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

I can't remember when I first encountered the writings of Peg Kehret, but I know that I have come to associate that name with good writing. Runaway Twin was no exception to that rule. It was a delightful little book and an easy, engrossing read.

Sunny Skyland has been in more than her share of foster homes. At age three, when her mother died, she and her twin sister, Starr, were separated. Sunny clings to an old photograph of their home in Enumclaw, Washington, and hopes it will lead her to finding her lost twin. When she happens upon enough money to make the trip possible, she takes off on her own, determined to reach Enumclaw and find her twin. Along the way, she befriends a stray dog, battles bullies and a tornado. When she finally reaches her destination, she finds something different than what she expected and discovers quite a bit about what she already has.

This would be a great book to recommend to readers between the ages of 10 and 14. Moreover, anyone can benefit from the theme of reconsidering the blessings one already has.

Book Review: Are You in the House Alone?

2011-10-24T19:07:00.000-07:00

Ever since falling in love with the audio books for A Long Way from Chicago and A Year Down Yonder (Grandma Dowdel is such a treat!), I have been a big fan of Richard Peck's books. I recently passed along Here Lies the Librarian to my mother-in-law to read. I knew she would enjoy both the tale and the fact that it takes place in this area where she grew up.

This time, I wasn't necessarily looking for a Richard Peck book, but snatched this one up in a dollar bag of books from our library's book shop (oh, how I love that little nook and their fabulous sales). I was expecting another wholesome tale (albeit the title, Are You in the House Alone? should have clued me in that this was a teen horror novel). Thus, I was shocked to discover a reference to the main character's sexual exploits right at the beginning.

Thankfully, I stuck with it long enough to discover that the previous sexual involvement was, in a way, necessary for the story-line's climax. Despite this initial hesitation, the book was a quick, easy, engaging read. I'm sure that it would, indeed, appeal to a teen or young adult reader.

I still prefer Peck's more wholesome tales. I love the humor and sense of location he creates in those other books. So, I'll keep my eye honed for more of that kind.

Sweets from my Sweetest

2011-10-22T10:59:00.000-07:00

In addition to a trip to Nashville, Indiana, which included a beautiful drive down viewing the absolutely gorgeous fall colors, my husband also bought me two special treats for Sweetest Day. He bought me a pound of yummy dark chocolate mint cookies from Fannie May. Then, in one of the little shops, I spotted this cute sculpture of a boy with his puppy:

Book Review: Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

2011-10-20T06:58:00.000-07:00

With a title like Don't Say I Didn't Warn You: Kids, Carbs, and the Coming Hormonal Apocalypse, Anita Renfroe sucked me in. Who is Anita Renfroe, you ask? She is the woman who is the author of the viral sensation, "The Mom Song." What mother can watch that routine and not end up with a giant belly laugh and a burst of applause?

I was looking for a light-hearted, humorous book to take along on a mini-getaway when my husband and I went to Nashville, Indiana, to celebrate "Sweetest Day" this past Saturday. Although it wasn't quite as funny as I had hoped, it still offered up a few genuine laughs and a great deal of internal resonance. Renfroe writes about having babies, weddings, mammograms, purses and holiday stress. Whatever the topic, she has a humorous anecdote or angle. This is a quick, funny read, sure to appeal to mothers in the thick of their harried role.

I also discovered a kid's response to The Mom Song. But even funnier is Tim Hawkins' "The Wife Song."

Book Review: Till Death Do Us Bark

2011-10-18T13:44:00.000-07:00

This is the third book in Kate Klise's 43 Old Cemetery Road series. It is typical of Kate Klise's "punny" writing (presented in letters and newspaper clippings) and her sister Sarah's fabulous, endearing illustrations. The book was delightful.

A lovable, lumbering dog shows up at the old Spence Mansion. Seymour Hope wants to be the perfect son for his new adoptive parents, I.B. Grumply and Olive C. Spence, but he also wants to keep the dog. He discovers the dog's name, Secret, and his owner, the recently deceased, Noah Breth, but he keeps it a secret, in the interest of keeping the dog. Meanwhile, Mr. Breth's children, Kitty and Kanine, a couple of bad Breths, are fighting over Mr. Breth's hidden inheritance. Tucked inside are great lessons of the value of friendship, letter-writing, and the chance to change your mind or your life.

This was a marvelous light-hearted romp of a story. As far as I'm concerned, Kate and Sarah Klise can just keep on churning out these punny little tales! Bravo for books that are sure to appeal to kids and tickle their funny bones at the same time! Can't wait for the next installment: Phantom of the Post Office.

Book Review: A Soft Place to Land

2011-10-17T13:19:00.000-07:00

Sadly, this was another book that really irked me. I had noticed it in Target one day and was impressed that it held an endorsement by Kathryn Stockett (author of The Help) on the enticing front cover. She called it "a beautiful story of the complicated love between two sisters," and declared it to be the next pick for book clubs.

I, for one, am glad I didn't suggest it for my own book club. I have two primary complaints. The first is that the book practically beat me over the head with its disdain for Christianity and those who call themselves "Christians." Of course, what is presented as "Christian" is the demonized, ultra-conservative, self-righteous, harmful individual who stifles all the good in others by attacking them with legalese and condemnation.

I cannot abide Christian fiction that spends too much time proselytizing and not enough time focusing on the story behind the message. This book, took the opposite extreme. Page after page was dedicated (interrupting the story, in my opinion) to blasting Christianity. The author must have had some kind of horrible experience at the hands of a self-professed Christian to have built up the kind of rage that comes out in this book.

My second complaint is that the story held great promise, but didn't deliver all that it could have. The premise itself was truly thought-provoking: what if a set of parents died, leaving behind two half-sisters who are shipped to two different locations and lives? Perhaps, the focus on making those lives as opposite and extreme as possible sidetracked the author from the true wealth available for exploration in the relationship between the two siblings. It seemed like far more time was spent on explaining the diverse lifestyles of their separate guardians than on exploring the internal conflict each sister must have experienced.

Naomi and Phil Harrison perish in an airplane accident. Their will stipulates that the older daughter, Julia, go to live with her biological father (the ultra-fundamentalist Christian environment), while the younger daughter, Ruthie, is sent to live with her father's sister and husband (an enlightened, easy-going couple who provide a wealth of opportunities and healthy stimulation for Ruthie). The two sisters must struggle through the arrangement (Ruthie with guilt over receiving the "better" deal and Julia with anger over receiving the "worst-possible" deal).

The mother, Naomi, is lauded over and over again for her strength and bravery in leaving her first husband (whose great transgression was that he never said "no" to Naomi, but, in his goodness, would allow her to do anything she wanted). Her action of divorcing her first husband and returning to her first love (who also ended up divorcing his spouse in order to join with Naomi) is viewed as heroic. In my opinion, it is far more heroic, and demands greater strength and bravery, to stand by a marriage commitment and work through, tooth and nail, differences and difficulties than it is to follow the whims of the heart.

While the writing itself was very good and kept me reading clear to the end, I cannot say that the telling of this particular story provided "a soft place (for me) to land." Come to think of it, neither character in the story ended up with a soft place to land either. Sad, really. Even the most difficult of situations can provide a glimmer of redemption, but I didn't find much redemption in this story.

Book Review: The Mind's Eye

2011-10-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

I discovered the excellent writing of neurologist Oliver Sacks, when I happened upon his book, Musicophilia, a fascinating discourse on the brain's interaction with music. With an Oliver Sacks book, you get both intellectual stimulation, as well as wonderfully interesting case histories. The Mind's Eye was every bit as engaging as Musicophilia.

In The Mind's Eye, Dr. Sacks looks at the brain's connection to the use of our various senses. The book is chock full of interesting case studies of individuals who lose various assumed abilities: the ability to speak, read, recognize faces, see three-dimensionally, or just see at all. You will come away with a renewed respect for the many things your brain enables you to do.

The stories were my favorite part of this discourse (although the nitty-gritty descriptions of how the brain works were excellent, just a bit harder to follow when listening in audio form). He tells the story of a concert pianist who one day lost the ability to read words or music, a neurologist who suddenly acquires stereoscopic vision after five decades of an inability to see three-dimensionally, a novelist who loses the ability to read after experiencing a stroke, and Oliver Sacks' own story of dealing with vision loss after ocular cancer.

After listening, I decided to check out the hard-cover form of the book, so that I could glean some titles for further reading. He mentioned Susan Barry's Fixing my Gaze: A Scientist's Journey into Seeing in Three Dimensions, Frank Brady's A Singular View: The Art of Seeing with One Eye, Howard Engel's The Man Who Forgot How to Read, John Hull's Touching the Rock: An Experience of Blindness, Heather Sellers' You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know, Sabriye Tenberken's My Path Leads to Tibet, and Zoltan Torey's Out of Darkness. Each of these books sounded interesting in their own right.

My final impression is, again, of endless gratitude to God for the incredible precision in his creation of our human body in the way our brain works with our senses to allow us to enjoy things like three dimensional vision, reading, recognizing our loved ones, and even overcoming the losses of certain senses with the increase of others. Every journey might be different, but every journey is of great value.

Simple and Delish - Cheeseburger Pie

2011-10-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

Last night, I made this dish for the second time. I'm pretty sure it will be a staple before long. This was another recipe gleaned from the "Five in a Fix" section of our local paper. It was super quick and easy to prepare and tasted fantastic. The first time, I didn't know if the boys would eat it (given the large tomato slices on top), but the second time around I made them to try a bite. It was a hit!

This first picture is of the second time around, when I took time to flute the edges. The first time (next two photos), I was in a hurry and merely folded the crust over the filling. I was hoping to get better photos of the more attractive pie, but it was gone before I could snap shots of the finished pie or a slice of the pie.

I fudged on the recipe a bit, but it turned out fine.

Cheeseburger Pie

1 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 lb. ground beef (I used turkey)
1/2 C. finely diced yellow onion (I used frozen diced onion)
2 Tbsp. flour
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire Sauce (I was out, so I substituted A-1 sauce)
salt and pepper
1 unbaked deep-dish pie shell
2 large eggs
1 C. small-curd cottage cheese
2 medium tomatoes, thinly sliced (I only used one)
1 C. shredded cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 395 degrees. Heat beef and onion in oil in skillet until cooked through. Drain fat. In a large bowl, stir meat, onions, flour and Worcestershire sauce. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon into the pie crust. In a small bowl, stir together eggs and cottage cheese. Spoon evenly over meat. Arrange tomato slices on top and sprinkle with the cheese. Bake until set and the cheese has melted, about 30 minutes.

It is not low-fat (although you can take steps to pare it down), but it is sure to be a people-pleaser! For me, the fact that it only took ten minutes to whip up, coupled with the taste, makes it a winner.

It was definitely a winner with my kids. Bryce kept asking Trevor (the only one who had risked a bite) if it was really good or not. I think he suspected I might be trying to hoodwink him into eating something he wouldn't like. Trevor told him it was good. After Bryce's first bite, he grabbed the rest of the pie. He ended up eating half the pie all by himself (leaving none for dad, who settled for just salad). I have a feeling he'll be requesting this again!

Book Review: I'd Know You Anywhere

2011-10-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, my cyber friend and fellow blogger, Cardiogirl, expressed a desire to find a new (to her) mystery author to read. She was looking for an author who had written more than just one book and she expressed an interest in crime fiction. Not long after that, I stumbled upon a novel in our library's Christmas shop by Laura Lippman. I don't remember the title, but it looked so interesting that I purchased it and sent it on to Cardiogirl. I explained to her that I couldn't vouch for my opinion about the author, since I had never read anything by Laura Lippman, but if it sounded intriguing to me, perhaps it would also be intriguing to her.

Thus, after reading the endorsements for I'd Know You Anywhere, I decided to give a Lippman book a try. This novel is about Eliza Benedict, a woman who has shortened her name in an attempt to distance herself from a frightening episode in the past when she was kidnapped and held hostage by a serial killer. After seeing her photo in a magazine, the killer, Walter Bowman, contacts Eliza with a desire to express his remorse.

An endorsement on the inside cover proclaims the novel to be "a powerful and utterly riveting tale that skillfully moves between past and present to explore the lasting effects of crime on a victim's life."

I anticipated the process of getting inside the head of a victim of crime. However, I cannot say that I enjoyed this book. The writing itself was very well done. The characters were drawn with depth. The plot did keep me reading. But the more I read, the more angry and irritated I felt.

Another blogger friend of mine, Lucy, once wrote that she doesn't like to read fiction when she feels that the author has "an agenda." This is entirely how I feel about this book. There was an agenda here and it got in the way of the story for me.

The author alienated me on two counts within two pages. Walter (the kidnapper/murderer of teen girls) is in Sussex (death row) and is thinking about the deaths of his parents from lung cancer and diabetes. He states:

"The men on Sussex had nothing on God when it came to killing people in painful, prolonged ways. The hardest case here hadn't taken more than a few hours to kill anyone. God took months, years."

I cannot help but think this view comes through from the author and not just a perspective of the criminal she is painting.

Then, in thinking of his victim, now a stay-at-home mother:

"He had no doubt that Elizabeth was a good mother. But he was still disappointed that this was all Elizabeth's life had amounted to, that this was what she had chosen to do with the great gift he had conferred on her."

Between the assault on Almighty God (implying that man doesn't hold a candle to God when it comes to causing suffering) and the assault on the valuable role of a mother, I was seething.

From that point on, things deteriorated further as it became clear that this was a novel with an agenda to denounce capital punishment. Walter isn't looking to merely apologize for wrongs he has committed. He is looking to escape the penalty of his actions. I want a good story, not a noble agenda.

Two further passages also rankled:

Barbara (Walter's support person) addresses Elizabeth (the only living victim):
"A man's going to die because of your testimony. But he's not the same man who committed the crimes .... How do you sleep at night? How can you live with yourself?..."

She goes on to declare that if Elizabeth "let Walter die ... then she was a killer, more cold-blooded than any death row inmate." (Somehow both victims and God are more responsible than an individual who chose to violate societal and religious standards.)

Later, an adult explains to a child that "religion and magic are pretty much the same thing." That about sums up the perspective this was written from.

So, although this book was riveting, although I read clear through to the end, I cannot bring myself to recommend it. There are certainly books I have enjoyed despite being written from a different political and religious perspective than my own, but this was not one of them. Story must trump agenda and, for me, this book didn't deliver.

Enjoying the Weather

2011-10-07T09:22:00.001-07:00

Book Review: The Pull of the Moon

2011-10-03T15:38:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been checking my blog statistics and reviewing the kinds of google entries that lead to my blog. While many of them are searching for reviews of books, I have been surprised by the number of women who have stumbled upon my menopausal mania post. Apparently, there are a large number of women out there who are in the throes of these disconcerting emotional and hormonal changes. They seem to just want to know that someone else is out there experiencing similar difficulties with hating their lives, feeling alienated from their husbands and generally losing it over things that never used to bother them. I know I have found great comfort in knowing that other women are encouraged by my simple words about my experience with menopause.

Elizabeth Berg's book, The Pull of the Moon, with it's obvious reference to a woman's monthly cycle, presents a character who is definitely reeling from the unsettling emotions and re-assessment of life that comes with menopause. Nan feels like she is drowning in the shallows of her present, empty life. She reflects back on a time when she felt she knew exactly where she was headed. With her daughter grown and her life droning on in an endless pace of nothingness, Nan takes a remarkable step and ... runs away from home.

I could fully relate to the main character in this book. Indeed, I ran away from home at a time when I felt like I was drowning a few years back. After a few days away, I was able to return and refocus on the demands of my life. Nan, however, takes her time, following no particular course, but relishing the opportunities afforded her in this freedom of escape. She is finally able to reflect upon her life and attempt to make some sense of where she is. She stops to talk with other women and learn how they are managing.

Her words, when writing about a young, exhausted mother she encountered, clearly resonated with me:

"I think we are most of us ready to explode, especially when our children are small and we are so weary with the demands for love and attention and the kind of service that makes you feel you should be wearing a uniform with 'Mommy' embroidered over the left breast, over the heart.... If a stranger had come up to me and said, 'Do you want to talk about it? I have time to listen,' I think I might have burst into tears at the relief of it. It wasn't that I was really unhappy. It was the constancy of my load and the awesome importance of it; and it was my isolation. I made no friends out of the few people I saw in the park - frazzled mothers too busy for real conversation..."

At one point, Nan goes into a grocery store, determined to buy all the ingredients to make a meal she really wants. Sadly, she realizes that everything she picks up is connected to another person's wants. She tells her husband that he wouldn't have had this problem, of not even knowing what it was she wanted to eat. She says,

"There would be nothing tangled up inside you, no guilt and despair trying to work their way into the lettuce and baguette and breast of chicken. It is a case of feeling that you deserve things, that they are there for you; and it is something women seem to struggle with, almost without exception, and I don't know why."

This rang so true for me. It seems we women focus our lives and efforts so thoroughly on meeting the needs of others, that we often forget what needs we ourselves have and, even worse, forget how to meet those needs. We lose touch with who we are and where we want to go.

Although this book wasn't really very plot-driven, (like Nan, it ambles) it does provide solidarity for women who are experiencing these perplexing new questions about life and what they want from it. I could have done without some of the sexual exploit discussions, but apart from that, I enjoyed the book. I'm guessing that other women confronting menopause would also find comfort in this tale of a woman in search of herself.

Celebrating the Birthday Boy

2011-09-28T11:09:00.000-07:00

This is the first year that I felt I managed to give Trevor an extraordinary birthday celebration. He always begs for a party, but most years I've just been too exhausted to think about having a party for him. This year, I promised that he could invite six kids. He invited half boys and half girls. I think this was a mistake because none of the girls attended and thus his party was kind of small. However, I didn't mind the small size. It turned out to be a lot of fun and only moments of stress.

Trevor wanted this skull and crossbones cake that he saw on-line:

(photo taken from the coolest cakes site).

As you can see, mine didn't quite make the grade. For starters, I failed to cut the skull portion of the cake to reflect skull shape (left it mostly round). Then, I decided to use wax paper beneath the cake (as seen on so many tutorials). Alas, I used large pieces and when I went to remove them, they shifted the cake so that the fragile bone sections and the right portion of the face shifted, creating a landslide of frosting (a frosting-slide?):

The two boys who came brought presents that were perfect for Trevor. One boy brought a gross zombie drink kit and the other boy brought a ton of drawing supplies (paper, clipboard, colored pencils).

The boys seemed to enjoy the simple games we planned as well. We started with a bean bag toss which we called "Haunt the Ship" (since we used the ghost bean bags we had made for his Kindergarten Halloween party last year). Trevor drew the ship on foam board.

Then, the boys played "Sink the Ships," attempting to get the most ping pong balls in two pirate ships.

I think their favorite game of all (and the one that led to some stress because the boys got pretty wound up) was the target practice game. We lined stuffed animals up on the book bar and had the boys take turns trying to shoot them down with a dart gun. Eventually, we realized that the game was far easier when we used the ghost bean bags. I think they may have beaned each other a time or two, as well.

We finished with a treasure hunt for the goodie bags.

Trevor loved the gifts he received from us, as well. It seemed like they were a bunch of little things (some even thrift store finds), but all things he loved. He was especially thrilled by the black book he received from his dad. He has shifted his artistic development from drawing skulls and monsters to a dedicated focus on graffiti writing. He watches endless You Tube videos of graffiti artists who draw in these special black books.

My gift was also extra special. I responded to a Vistaprint ad and secured 250 business cards with his blog name on them. I also purchased a pen which says "Monsters and Art - by Trev." He was thrilled to take them to school to pass them out this morning.

Finally, he's super thrilled with the Halloween door curtain:

All in all, it was a very special birthday for a very special boy!

Book Review: Cries of the Heart

2011-09-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

My husband introduced me to Ravi Zacharias. When John was studying philosophy, he was very interested in Christian apologetics (arguments for the faith). Ravi Zacharias is one of the forefront authors in Christian apologetics.

I actually bought this book for John as a Christmas present a few years back. The sub-title is what hooked me in: "Bringing God Near When He Feels So Far." Cries of the Heart certainly reminded me of God's powerful presence in my life, even when He seems strangely silent. As the author is quoted on the back cover:

"When God speaks there are no ploys, no gimmicks. Only life-defining truth. When He speaks we will be soothed by His touch, and we will rest in His comfort, knowing that He has heard our cries and has come near in our need."

This book calls us to deeper thinking about the reality of God and His way of dealing with His creation. It reminds us that God is in control. The author has broken his arguments down into a structured treatment of our many cries and God's cry of response. The chapters treat our cry to know God, our cry to actually feel our faith, the cry for a reason in our suffering (with extensive treatment on the story of Job), the cry of a guilty conscience, the cry for freedom in what pleasure we take, the cry of loneliness, and finally, God's cry for His people. By the end of the book, the reader's faith rests more firmly on a foundation of faith in God's wisdom and strength and power.

If you are struggling with God's seeming silence, with the deep questions that come when something harmful invades the life of a loved one, with intense loneliness and disconnection from people and God, this book will certainly remind you of His love and His purpose for your life. If you are an unbeliever, it may even convince you to place your belief and trust in the God who longs to answer every cry of your heart!

Speaking My Son's Language

2011-09-25T13:14:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, my oldest son, Bryce, has loved to speak in unusual ways. When he was seven he took on the language style of the "Ed, Edd, and Eddy Show," much to my mother's consternation. I can remember one spring break visit when she would say, "I'm only speaking to Bryce ... not Edd." We have videos of him prancing around, using his Edd voice (a moronic simpering tone, if you've never seen the inane Cartoon Network show).

These voices and language styles change about every six months or so. I may have mentioned his previous "Ne, ne, ne, ne, ne" phrase, which he used ad nauseum. The little boys would use the phrase, too.

I'd say, "Time to clean your room."

They'd reply, "Ne, ne, ne, ne, ne," combined with a swinging hand motion.

Somehow the "Ne" became "Ner" and the "Ner" became a whole language with specific rules.

Here is an example, taken from a note he left near the coffee machine Thursday night:

"Lert mer slerp ern ernterl serven therter. Yer be terken mer."

It would sound exactly as it reads. He has eliminated vowels and replaced them with "er." Every word like is, am, are, was ... reverts to "be."

Thus, his message translates: Let me sleep until seven thirty. You are taking me.

What a crazy kid he is. His little brothers run to greet him at the door with a "Heller Berce. Her yer be?" His friends talk like this, as well.

It seems he infects everyone he comes in contact with. I went to pick him up from music camp this past summer and the kids he had been with for only a few days greeted me with a "Heller." (which actually, if following the rules, should probably be "herler."

We keep saying we should write down his various catch phrases (like another current one: "it be ight" for it's all right) and make up a whole Bryce Dictionary to document his unique language development for future times. At least it is documented here.

So, if yer ser herm, be sure ter ser heller!

Book Review: I Remember Nothing

2011-09-22T09:38:00.001-07:00

After finishing Nora Ephron's bestseller, I Feel Bad About My Neck, I needed another audio book to listen to on my long drive to my book group. I was thrilled to find another similar book in I Remember Nothing and Other Reflections. This book, like the other, is full of brief essays about human experience (in this case, aging).

Although I am not in my sixties or seventies (what I assume is the target audience), I did find many of her comments to be humorous and easy to relate to. I have had my own memory issues of late, probably brought on by menopause, and chuckled as she spoke of forgetting the names of individuals she knows that she knows well.

I don't share her same views on religion, but could appreciate her humor on so many other areas of life. She shares about the attraction and eventually demise of attraction with e-mail. She talks about being divorced. She shares campy stories about what it was like to grow up in her home, with an alcoholic mother.

If you've tried I Feel Bad About My Neck and enjoyed it, you'll want to try I Remember Nothing. I don't think this second one was as good as the first memoir-essay-type book, but it was still funny in several spots. I'm pretty sure everyone could use a good laugh now and then.

Book Review: Captivating

2011-09-19T17:37:00.000-07:00

Last year, around this time, someone recommended John Eldridge's The Sacred Romance. This year, a friend recommended John and Stasi Eldridge's book, Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul. These two books are very similar in their goal. They aim to direct the reader back to the lover of their soul, the Lord, and to awaken the romance between God and his beloved.

In Captivating, the focus falls on women. I can agree with the authors that the primary desire women have is to be romanced, to be desired by another. I had a bit more difficulty with the question they selected for women, "Am I lovely?" (as opposed to the man's question of "Am I enough?") I suppose I feel that I've never cared one way or the other whether I am lovely, beautiful, feminine enough or "captivating." However, I can attest that I have always wanted to be desired by another ... often painfully so.

I found a good deal of truth within these pages. The authors plead with women to recognize their loveliness in the eyes of God and to see Him seeking them for Himself. They ask women to stop attempting to avoid pain by remaining hidden or unavailable (two dances I know all too well). We desire safety and do whatever we think it takes to get it.

I loved their quote from Frederick Buechner:

"To do for yourself the best that you have it in you to do - to grit your teeth and clench your fists in order to survive the world at its harshest and worst - is, by that very act, to be unable to let something be done for you and in you that is far more wonderful still. The trouble with steeling yourself against the harshness of reality is that the same steel that secures your life against being destroyed secures your life also against being opened up and transformed."

John and Stasi encourage the reader to be authentic and to look to God to supply all needs instead of looking to the men around us or to our own ability to fend for ourselves. They write:

"We cannot have intimacy with God or anyone else if we stay hidden and offer only who we think we ought to be or what we believe is wanted."

Far too often, I fall into that trap. I play the game of trying to fit whatever mold I think is expected of me. I spend far too much time damning myself for not being what or who I think I am expected to be. Indeed, I needed their bold reminder of Satan's desire to disarm me with internal doubts. I loved this quote:

"You have an irreplaceable role to play.... Your lingering disbelief (may it be fading away) that anything important hangs on your life is only evidence of the long assault on your heart by the one who knows who you could be and fears you."

I found their descriptions of our possible interactions with our spouse to be convicting. Their prescription for arousing Adam (to be the hero that you need him to be) is simple: "Need him. And believe in him."

I found myself wishing I had daughters to share their advice with when they suggested how a young woman should behave when being courted with the possibility of marriage:

"Be careful you do not offer too much of yourself to a man until you have good, solid evidence that he is a strong man willing to commit. Look at his track record with other women. Is there anything to be concerned about there?... does he have close friends - and what are they like as men? Can he hold down a job? Is he walking with God in a real and intimate way? Is he facing the wounds of his own life...? Is he headed somewhere with his life?... Your heart is a treasure and we want you to offer it only to a man who is worthy and ready to handle it well."

The authors present the argument that a woman's femininity awakens masculine strength and, conversely, a good man's strength drives and opens a woman to be beautiful and alluring.

This book was an excellent reminder to center my heart on His love for me, while still living out the life He is inviting and calling me to.

Dracula! - Book and Play Review

2011-09-17T13:34:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I feel a gentle nudge to read a particular book. This was the case with Dracula by Bram Stoker. I had never read the book. One of the ladies in my book group mentioned that it was going to be featured on Moody Bible Radio's Mid-day Connection Book Group Discussion (now there's a mouthful!). She mentioned, several times, that the host, Dr. Rosalie de Rosset felt that the book had value because of its clear designation of the struggle between good and evil. (If you go to Mid-day Connection's Book Group site, you can listen to an audio version of the hour-long discussion de Rosset led on September 1st).

Next, I saw a coupon in a flyer for discounted tickets to see the Indiana Repertory Theatre's presentation of Dracula. I think this clinched it. I found a friend to attend it with me and dashed out to find the book at a nearby library. Although our library had a normal version of the book, it was checked out and not due back prior to the performance. Thus, I drove to the next library over and managed to snag a gigantic volume called The New Annotated Dracula, edited by Leslie S. Klinger.

I'm not sure what I think about the book itself or the annotation by Klinger. On the one hand, I did clearly see de Rosset's point that the book carries a strong message about the allure of sin and evil and the necessity of fighting it by banding together for good against the power of evil. At the same time, the story often was a bit too much for me. It was just plain creepy at times (like when Dracula is forcing one of his victims to drink the blood from a scratch across his chest and then calling her his "winepress").

As for the annotation, I am equally conflicted. It was amazing to have so many notes at my disposal as I read through the novel. However, it was also overwhelming to have so many notes at my disposal as I read through the novel! I think my biggest beef with Leslie Klinger would have to be his use of a "gentle fiction ... that the events described in Dracula 'really took place' and that the work presents the recollections of real persons, whom Stoker has renamed and whose papers (termed the "Harker Papers"...) he has recast, ostensibly to conceal their identities."

What in the world was that all about??? As I was reading the notes, I kept encountering the subtle attitude that the events were real. It was really disturbing. It was only after I finished reading the whole thing, that I went back to the editor's preface and learned about his "gentle fiction." I must agree with other reviewers, on the Amazon site, who have said that it led to a whole host of extraneous and unnecessary notations which only muddied the trip through Stoker's Dracula.

Still, I did find the notes interesting and I was grateful for an academic treatment of the novel. It came complete with maps and history and numerous interesting tid-bits. The appendices were intriguing with things like a glossary of Whitby Dialect, a chronology of Dracula, "Dracula's Family Tree - full of descriptions of various treatments of the work, and an extensive bibliography. With all of that, the annotated book topped in at 613 pages! I didn't read all of the extra notations, but I did make use of them from time to time, despite feeling bogged down.

My most positive comments would have to be reserved for the play performed at the Indianapolis Repertory Theater. They used a script, by Steven Dietz, which I found to be fully faithful to Stoker's vision and tone in his book. I will admit, I was worried that it might have been doctored to emphasize the sexuality in the novel more than was warranted. Thankfully, that was not the case.

The play was brilliant! In fact, my favorite character was Renfield (the lunatic in Dr. Seward's asylum). He provided such wonderful comic relief. He was funny and tormented and amazingly brave (at one point he fled the stage with a live rat in his mouth - yuck, yuck, yuck!). The play kept with the language of Stoker's novel. Indeed, many of the phrases, invoking God's deliverance were used in the script. The evil was opposed with the wafers of the holy communion and with a glowing crucifix. Good triumphed over evil and you left feeling glad to have come.

It was a bit too gory in spots for me. They did a fine job of realistic portrayal of the blood, but it was difficult to watch. The special effects and sound effects were stunning. At one point, Dracula appears in a mist of smoke blown up by Renfield. From my angle of seating, I couldn't observe Dracula's final desmise as he turned into dust, but it must have been convincingly executed.

All in all, I'm glad that I took the time to read Dracula, even the annotated version. I'm especially thrilled that I took a chance and attended the performance (I don't believe many modern versions of this story - like the Twilight series - render the story as faithfully as Dietz did).

I appreciated several of the lines in the playbill. The artistic director, Janet Allen, wrote:

"Stoker's ability to place our proverbial fingers on the heartbeat of the tension between good and evil, between the power of Christianity and the power of the pagan, between science and faith, between human desire and social propriety, between sanity and insanity, between our attraction to and our repulsion from immortality, all account for the edge-of-the-seat feelings we get when watching a faithful retelling of this story. If the retelling does real justice to Mr. Stoker's novel, our sense of Dracula ricochets uncontrollably between abhorrence and allure."

She was right! The tension is palpable and this retelling does real justice to Mr. Stoker's novel!

And from Steven Dietz, himself:

"Most of the characters in Bram Stoker's Dracula spend the better part of the book trying desperately - with the absolute best of intentions - to keep secrets from one another. Their reasons have to do with safety, honor, respectability, and science ... but every secret buys the vampire in their midst more time. Every evasion increases the impossibility of anyone assembling the totality of the facts, the cumulative force of the information. Secrecy breeds invasion. Darkness begets darkness. It is this secrecy among the principal characters -heightened by the lack of third-person objectivity, since the novel consists entirely of personal letters, diaries, and news reports - that is the heart of the book's unique power. The objectivity so desperately needed by the characters is handed to the reader. A trans-continental jigsaw puzzle. A myriad of disturbing clues. And it falls to the reader alone to make the connections between these events."

Indeed, evil thrives in darkness. Although the dark elements made it difficult to appreciate reading, it still felt important to bring those dark elements into the light by reading (or watching the performance). Rather than making the evil appear harmlessly attractive, evil shrouded in apparent good looks and love (as modern renditions tend to), Dietz has faithfully produced a version that shows the evil for what it is and leads the audience to desire the good and holy. Kudos to Steven Dietz and kudos to the Indianapolis Repertory Theater!

Book Review: I Feel Bad About My Neck

2011-09-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

This little book was delightful in every way. I need more humor in my life and I enjoyed the moments laughing out loud at Ephron's witty observations of life.

Prior to listening to this audio book, I didn't realize that Nora Ephron was the screenwriter behind "Sleepless in Seattle" and "You've Got Mail." I picked it up because the title was interesting and the book was listed as humor. I was certainly not disappointed.

I think my favorite essay of all was one written about the rapture you feel when you find a truly wonderful book. The essay itself made me feel a sense of rapture. She nails truths so well and with fine wit! I laughed out loud at her dissertation on the foibles of purses. Indeed, I think my teenage son was probably wondering what had me tittering in the front seat. He was plugged into music, but he had to have noticed my body shaking with laughter in the front seat as we drove to his drum lesson!

If you are in need of a good laugh, be sure to pick up this brief memoir by Nora Ephron!

In Obvious Need of Some Pampering and Deals

2011-09-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

On Thursday of last week, I headed into the heart of Indianapolis to pick up some discounted tickets I had purchased for only $20 each (a $32 savings per ticket) for the Indiana Repertory Theater's showing of "Dracula." I figured it would be a quick trip in and out and planned to return home with plenty of time to exercise and shower before picking Sean back up. Alas, things didn't go quite as planned.

When I arrived at the theater, I discovered that the box office wasn't open yet. Indeed, it wouldn't open until 11 a.m. I was pleased that I had parked in the Circle Center Mall parking because I assumed I could kill the time shopping in the mall (something I almost NEVER do because instead of being a mall-level shopper, I'm more of a Target-level shopper). However, even the mall shops hadn't opened. Obviously, Indianapolis is NOT the "city that never sleeps!"

Thankfully, Subway was open in the food court and I was thrilled to discover a wonderful promotion offering a small breakfast melt for only 55 cents. Now, we're talking! It was a delicious mix of egg, bacon, cheese and tomato. Yum!

The shops finally opened at 10 and I made a beeline to the Aeropostale store where I managed to snag a t-shirt for Bryce for only $6. Score one more deal for Wendy!

At this point, I was merely wandering around assessing the shops available at the mall. I had another half hour to kill. It had been so long since I've been in a mall, that I didn't realize how dangerous wandering can be! It seems that now there are vendors in the halls who pounce upon the wandering, ambling shopper.

Let me preface the details of this interaction by explaining exactly how I looked. I had foregone a shower that morning because I was so convinced I would make it home in time to exercise and shower later. My hair was drooping. My clothes were ... let's say not up to mall-shopping attire (although, I'm pleased that I wasn't still clad in sweats or pajama bottoms - ha).

As I ambled by, this absolutely gorgeous girl (mid-twenties, I'd say) stopped to offer me a sample of her Deep Sea Cosmetics. I took the sample (mistake number one). Then, she quickly commented (before I had time to dash off) that she noticed I wear my nails au natural (without polish). She asked if she could show me something that would amaze me. Then she asked about the last time I had been amazed. I couldn't even think of anything amazing in my life.

She pulled me over and began her spiel. She produced a rectangular buffer and began rubbing along my thumb nail while telling me loads of enticing information about her wonderful products from the Dead Sea in Israel. The girl manipulated with another tactic, asking my name so she could appeal to me on a personal level with each persuasive pitch. Internally, I was already rehearsing my no-sale mantra ("There's no way I'm spending that kind of money. I'm not even the type of woman who devotes time and energy to such maintenance").

I actually WAS AMAZED! When she finished buffing my nail, first with the blue side, then the magenta side, then the white silk side, my nail was absolutely shining ... all on its own, with no polish. I'm not a polish-kind-of-girl. In fact, to use the above comparison, I'd be a Dollar-Store-nail care patron. I can't be bothered with wearing polish and besides, when I do attempt to put on polish, one of the boys smudges them before they get a chance to dry.

Of course, she wasn't just selling the buffer tool. That would be too simple, too easy. No, they want to make money. She offered me the complete Dead Sea nail treatment kit for only $49.99, and they would throw in a second one for free. As she launched into all the reasons, I should purchase the kit, she began to apply a nourishing cuticle oil and explained how it heals cuticles without the need for the services of a manicure (as if I ever pay money for someone to manicure my nails!).

The final piece in the package was a tube of Dead Sea hand and body lotion. I have very sensitive skin. My skin is susceptible to eczema. I have to moisturize it regularly. My dermatologist has counselled me never to use lotions that come as a cream (in a tube or squirt-bottle). So I really wasn't interested in the lotion.

I tried to haggle. I wanted them to sell me the nail buffer and the oil without the lotion. The girl, (whose name I had discovered was Jila - though she was as far from a Jila monster as you could get) appealed to her boss. He vetoed the idea but joined in the sales pitch. He was sure there was someone I would need a gift for soon. I couldn't convince him that there wasn't one person in my life to whom I could reasonably give this as a gift.

What can I say? They wore me down. I gave in. I kept thinking, "I can't believe I'm spending this much money on myself!" Then I would internally argue that my life coach has been encouraging me to spend money on myself.

I shouldn't have lingered a moment in those internal arguments. Before I could pull myself away, Jila, with her exotic accent, moved right into the next sales pitch. I kept thinking, "They can tell I'm a woman who needs to spend more time taking care of herself!"

Jila put a dab of sea salt scrub into the palm of my hand, poured a small amount of water from a pitcher over it and told me to rub my hands together. Moments later, she poured water over again. Here was the clincher: she showed me the contents of the bowl (amazingly scummy with dead skin cells) and urged me to feel my hands. They were, as she said, "as soft as a baby's bottom!"

Fifty-nine further dollars later, I have amazingly shiny nails and astoundingly soft skin. I love these products. I didn't love the price (and I did find similar ones on-line for a tad-bit less), but I can't complain about the results I am experiencing. (I'm hoping it will work on Trevor's eczema, too, if he'll tolerate the beautiful smell.) My skin and nails are worth it. I'm worth it. That's my mantra, and I'm sticking to it!

Book Review: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

2011-09-08T16:51:00.000-07:00

This book was selected for our September book group gathering. I have heard of this book. I even thought my mother had read it and loved it. It turns out my memory was wrong and she has never read it (although, she did respond favorably, expressing a desire to read it).

Alas, it won't be on my list of favorite reads for 2011. I begin to wonder if I have merely become too interested in modern fiction to arouse interest in older fiction (even the ones considered classics).

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn begins with an explanation of the title. In the tenement housing where the main character, Frankie, lives, there is a small tree stubbornly growing out of a concrete jungle. Frankie, like the tree, is poor but determined and grows into something wonderful to behold.

Some of my difficulties with the book stem from the preachy tone. Much is made about character and what a person should and shouldn't do. Religion and education are touted as saviors. Even Frankie's father's dissipative lifestyle is acceptable because he is a wonderful father and loves them deeply.

Still, I did find a few comments that resonated with me and made me laugh:

In speaking of the her desperate neighbor who threw herself at men, to no avail, and of her aunt, Sissy, who naturally attracted men's interest, Frankie observes, "the difference was that Flossie Gaddis was starved about men and Sissy was healthily hungry about them. And what a difference that made."

I thought this comment about what makes for a good husband was both comical and true:
"Jim ... was a good man. He was considered educated .... He made good money and wasn't home much. He was an ideal husband."

And finally, a quote about the dilemma the people pleasers face: "Yes, she listened to everybody's troubles but no one listened to hers. But that was right because Sissy was a giver and never a taker."

Although it was a pleasant enough story (of a girl rising out of poverty), it just wasn't deep enough or interesting enough to fully hold my attention. I think I merely finished it because it was up for book group discussion. Hopefully, our next choice will hold better promise.

More Birds

2011-09-06T07:05:00.001-07:00

I think I am officially a "bird-watcher" now! The birds have started coming more regularly and are growing bolder.

There were some beautiful tiny yellow birds (yes, I know, I should learn the names of these magnificent creatures) on the hanging bird feeder this morning, but I was unable to catch them. Still, I caught some shots of this splendid cardinal, who settled in to feed for several minutes:

Then, I managed to capture this small house finch (I think that is what it is called) right in front of me at the window feeder. He didn't even seem to know I was only inches away from him.

For the Birds

2011-09-04T09:09:00.000-07:00

For Christmas, I received this Duncraft Cardinal Classic Window Bird Feeder:

A few months ago, I finally mounted it on our living room window, facing the patio near our bird bath. Unfortunately, not a bird would come near it. So ... we moved it to the window in our dining room (near a secluded corner where birds are often seen). Still, nary a taker. So ... we moved it again to a window on our porch. To this day, I haven't seen a single bird eat from it. Hmph!

Sensing my frustration, my thoughtful husband ran out to purchase another bird feeder. He hung it in a tree outside the dining room window (near that same corner). For a week, we saw nothing. We attributed it to the presence of a large hawk.

Perhaps the hawk has finally moved on. The birds are beginning to avail themselves of the hanging black birdfeeder (still no window diners). I tried to capture some photos of the spectacle with my point and shoot camera:

Alas, this camera is "for the birds." Well, it is (according to idiom) and it isn't (really). It captures sons far better than birds.

Ah well, there's not a chance in the world that a photographer of negligible talent, like myself, will be getting an expense camera with a telephoto lens. So, if any of you talented photographer friends of mine want to come visit and capture these treasured moments, you're welcome.

Addendum: We finally saw birds at the window feeder. I tried to snap a photo, but little success so far (oh for a friend to come photograph these beauties). Plus, a huge owl came up and landed on the branch right outside the window near the feeders. It was too dark to see clearly or hope to snap a photo, but it was amazing, nonetheless!

Ridiculous Ads

2011-09-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

O.K. - if you have a dog this big, do you really need to spend $50 buying him/her a ramp to climb into your pickup truck??? Seriously?

(Photo: courtesy of Tuesday Morning Indiana ad)

This next one had both Bryce and I laughing. Thanks to our patronage at Famous Footwear, we received a magazine called "Mind Body Sole." Within it, we discovered a Puma ad featuring two exercise demonstrations. O.K., I can go along with the first one - Skinny Jean Lunges. But check out the second exercise demonstration called "Walk the Dog."

You probably cannot read the fine print from this picture, but it is ridiculous:

"Step 1 - Grab treats, doggie bags and leash. Secure Hobie for dog of your choosing, holding him tightly with your right hand." (Left hand is apparently poor form.)
Step 2 - Hobie at your side, walk tall, extending your left leg first. (OCD, perhaps)
Step 3 - Keep your core strong, and your pace steady, regardless of doggie distractions.
Step 4 - Don't forget to be responsible and clean up after Hobie."

It is the disclaimer that really clinched it: "Please consult your physician before beginning any exercise program. And your dog, to discuss preferable walking routes in your neighborhood." (proof-reader desperately needed there, but seriously now - this is ridiculous!)

Book Review: The Sunflower

2011-08-31T10:26:00.000-07:00

This was a thoroughly enjoyable, lighthearted little tale. I chose the audio version and found myself looking for reasons to head off in the car. It is simply a sweet story.

Christine Hollister is shattered when her fiance calls off their wedding just two weeks prior to the planned ceremony (hmmm - that resonates with me for some reason - wink). When her best friend, Jessica, presents Christine with a humanitarian trip to Peru to take her mind off things, Christine wants no part of it. But, since her mother has put forth the money, she agrees to go to the informational meeting. She is lured in by the photos and stories of young children at an orphanage called The Sunflower.

Paul Cook is an ER doctor whose life spins out of control after an especially difficult night in the operating room. He retreats to a new life in Peru at The Sunflower. Jessica falls for the handsome tour guide, Jim, and Christine is intrigued by the orphanage director, Paul.

Although there is plenty of description of the travel on the tour, it never felt like a travelogue. The story always remained the primary focus. I found myself fully engrossed in the lives of these characters and rooting for their very best outcome. Who will she end up with, the handsome doctor or the repentant jilting fiance?? Read it to find out!

Book Review: Saving Alice

2011-08-29T18:40:00.000-07:00

I wanted to like this book more than I did. It seemed like a promising story (hmm - too many of the fiction books I have picked up lately have the same feel to them). Plus, it had the name Alice in the title and somehow I have been attracting Alice books ever since I became engrossed in Lisa Genova's Still Alice. Sadly, David Lewis' Saving Alice was not so absorbing.

Stephen Whitaker is a man who lost his first love when a tragic accident ripped her from him just as he had proposed to her. As the back cover proclaims "losing Alice was the event that changed everything for Stephen." He marries his second choice, Donna, and has a daughter, Alycia, whom he adores. As Alycia begins to uncover the past which led to her name, Stephen supposedly finds himself at a crossroads, a second chance, where he must choose his future.

It sounded like a good story. Unfortunately, the main character seemed almost too weak. I think I never came around to liking him in any way. When you don't like the main character, it is hard to become absorbed in the reading. The tale played out predictibly enough. The daughter was appalled that her mother was not her father's first choice. Stephen's lack of commitment to his wife and daughter have driven them from him emotionally.

The ending veered into a dream scenario within a dream scenario and seemed too unrealistic. As I said, I wanted to feel more engaged, but never got there.

Book Review: The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

2011-08-22T18:34:00.001-07:00

I had heard of the popularity of this book and was looking for a riveting book to bring along to camp. Alas, I didn't get far in this before putting it down to read again after returning home (this was partly because the book was too big to carry around all day in my bag).

I wish that I liked this book more. It feels like the last few books have held great promise, with interesting premises, but failed to fully deliver on the possibilities available. This was certainly true of the concept behind this book.

Rose Edelstein arrives home a few days before her ninth birthday to discover that her mother has baked a lemon cake with chocolate icing (hmm ... can't even seem to get to what that would taste like ... lemon and chocolate??). Within the first few bites, she realizes that she has stepped into an alternate reality because she can actually taste her mother's emotions within the cake. This mother of hers, who loves her children intensely, serves up an unwieldy desperation and emptiness.

At this point, I felt hopeful. I myself am at a place in life where mothering often leaves me desperately empty, a raw hollow shell of the person I once was. Thus, I thought that I would really latch onto this narrative and enjoy the discoveries Rose makes. But, apart from her mother's deep ache and a few test subjects (a bakery experiment), Rose tends to avoid her "special gift" and seek instead to understand the unique gifts of her other family members (her detached, oblivious father and her anti-social, brilliant brother).

I continued reading, hoping it would offer up some deeper wisdom about life. There was none to be had. It dissolved into pointless explanations of how Rose could tell the location each ingredient came from and the emotions of the growers, etc. The special skill almost became tedious instead of illuminating.

My biggest complaint had to be the difficulty of trying to read through a book where conventional structure is thrown aside. The text of this novel fails to provide any quotation marks. Thus, the reader has to work extra hard to follow the tale because they must decipher where the quotation marks would have been.

Sadly, I doubt I would recommend this book. While the premise is interesting, it doesn't lead to any great insight or understanding of life or the world (apart from the fact that every family holds secrets and fully knowing the emotions of another, when those emotions are supposed to be veiled, is dangerous). Alas, I am suffering from the particular sadness of wasting time on a book that just didn't really deliver what it could have.

Book Review: 13 Little Blue Envelopes

2011-08-19T06:21:00.001-07:00

Point me in the direction of a teen book about England and I'm game. 13 Little Blue Envelopes, by Maureen Johnson, promised mystery and adventure in one of my favorite locations. This was the one riveting read that I actually completed while at CBLI. It did hold my attention, despite loads of implausible elements.

Seventeen year old Ginny has just received "13 little blue envelopes" from her spontaneous, irresponsible, wandering aunt. The same aunt who has recently died of cancer. Prior to her death, instead of creating her own bucket list (after all, she'd already done pretty much whatever she wanted to do whenever she wanted to do it), she has created a bucket list for her teenage niece, daughter of her ever-practical and reliable sister. Implausible, no? The solid sister would never allow her teenage daughter to wander England and Europe on a quest fabricated by the sister who would never settle down. Indeed, the spontaneous sister had actually disappeared without ever even informing them that she was ill. Hmmm. Even if you are spontaneous and have enormous wander lust, when one is sick, one generally wants to be near family, no?

Anyway, extending more than reasonable willful suspension of disbelief, the reader will discover that Ginny finds herself flying off on a grand adventure with a few established rules (from a non-rule oriented person): Ginny may only bring her backpack, no guidebooks or journals (???? - no journals, really? why?? why would an artistic, creative person not allow the creative, personal expression of a journal???) and no extra cash (again, why?). The whole adventure will be orchestrated by the free-flying Aunt Peg.

The first envelope provides ample cash for a ticket to London. The second envelope directs Ginny to a London flat where she meets Robert (a very solid individual who works at Harrods). The third instructs her to provide funds for a starving artist. Ginny ends up meeting a young playwright named Keith. With each envelope she opens she embarks on a new adventure and learns something about herself and her Aunt Peg.

It is a great premise and it truly was an interesting read, but somehow I still ended up with a not quite convinced taste in my mouth. Ginny was far too naive a character to have traveled across Europe with the only mishap being a lost backpack (containing the final letter - which leads to a second book apparently). Plus, too often the book read like a travel-log. I love reading about England and Europe, but wanted the story to be more convincing and more important than the descriptions of the travel.

For the average teen, this provides a delightful little read. For the individual who longs for arm-chair travel, it provides vicarious adventure. For me, I don't know if I will seek out the follow-up book, The 13th Letter.

Book Review: Her Fearful Symmetry

2011-08-17T18:03:00.000-07:00

Although I wrote several sheduled posts before leaving for CBLI, I failed to make any of them book reviews and now I find myself really behind the eight ball in trying to catch up with reviews for books I completed weeks ago. Thus for the brief synopsis of this fascinating second novel by Audrey Niffenegger (author of The Time Traveller's Wife), I merely copied the novel description from the Amazon listing:

"When Elspeth Noblin dies of cancer, she leaves her London apartment to her twin nieces, Julia and Valentina. These two American girls never met their English aunt, only knew that their mother, too, was a twin, and Elspeth her sister. Julia and Valentina are semi-normal American teenagers--with seemingly little interest in college, finding jobs, or anything outside their cozy home in the suburbs of Chicago, and with an abnormally intense attachment to one another.

The girls move to Elspeth's flat, which borders Highgate Cemetery in London. They come to know the building's other residents. There is Martin, a brilliant and charming crossword puzzle setter suffering from crippling Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; Marjike, Martin's devoted but trapped wife; and Robert, Elspeth's elusive lover, a scholar of the cemetery. As the girls become embroiled in the fraying lives of their aunt's neighbors, they also discover that much is still alive in Highgate, including--perhaps--their aunt, who can't seem to leave her old apartment and life behind.

Niffenegger weaves a captivating story in Her Fearful Symmetry about love and identity, about secrets and sisterhood, and about the tenacity of life--even after death."

I was totally absorbed in this book while listening to the audio version of it. I couldn't wait for an excuse to drive off somewhere in my husband's car (my only vehicle CD access). In fact, one day I drove an hour for a book group that had been incorrectly advertised on a blog, but didn't mind the extra time at all because it was spent listening to this incredibly interesting story (I did mind the gas expense, however).

I was especially enthralled by Martin's character because he suffered severely with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. While my husband's OCD tendencies don't even come close to Martin's, it was interesting to observe the wife's reaction to the stresses of living with someone for whom everything must be done in a certain, specific way. Although I could have done without the attempt at romance between the teen twin and this aging deranged man, I am glad the author incorporated Martin and Marjike into the story (I would have never known the pronunciation for Marjike [mar-eye-ka] if I hadn't listened to the audio version).

I also enjoyed the locale of this story. I was privileged to visit Highgate Cemetery with my good friend, David Mitchell. It was an extraordinary visit and this book brought back those happy memories. Plus, the book mentioned Postman's Park, a favorite haunt of mine (near Little Britain Street) when I visited and lived in London. I have several photos in my scrapbooks of the small memorial plaques dedicated to individuals who gave their lives trying to save someone else (things like:

"Edward Morris, aged 10, drowned in the Grand Junction Canal trying to save his companion when they went swimming in the summer of 1897. David Selves, aged 12, died in Woolwich Reach "supporting his drowning playfellow and sank with him clasped in his arms," September 1886. At 9 years old, William Fisher was the youngest: he died in Walworth in July1886 trying to save his little brother from being run over in the street." (taken from www.victorianweb.org)

The ghost story, with the element of communication with the trapped ghost of Elspeth, was highly intriguing. I think I could have been fine with the whole thing until the "Little Kitten of Death" was introduced.

Towards the end, I felt like the story line waxed a bit convoluted, but it was still interesting and full of surprises. I think I may have liked it better if there had been a different ending, since this one left a bad taste in my mouth, but I cannot think of how it could have ended differently.

It is, without a doubt, a riveting read. I will happily open another Niffenegger book if she writes one. She has a great ability for asking the what if questions that stretch life as we know it.

Book Review: Man Walks Into a Room

2011-08-15T19:37:00.000-07:00

I found myself waiting in the library a few weeks back while Trevor attended a Science show. To kill the time, I picked up a book magazine (I know it wasn't "Book Page" but cannot remember the name). I wanted to find a really riveting book to take along to CBLI (our annual ten day Bible camp). Nicole Krauss' Man Walks into a Room sounded like it fit the bill. However, I didn't wait until camp to read it.

The first half, while interesting was a bit plodding. It tells the tale of Samson Greene, an English professor who turns up in the desert, caught in the throes of amnesia from the pressure of a brain tumor. Once the tumor is removed, Samson awakens with only the memories of his first 12 years. His entire adult life is unknown to him, yet he must return to his wife, his job, his associations as if he understood them all. This what-if question elicits plenty of fodder for thought.

It focuses on the idea of memories, asking whether they are a blessing or a curse. At one point, the main character says of Dr. Ray Malcolm's extravagant house which he holds onto because of the memories it holds : "Seems like maybe it's a burden to keep." (both the house and the memories).

As Samson continues to interact with Dr. Ray Malcolm (for an experiment in the possibility of transferring memories from one brain to another) he examines the idea that man can harness some power, but then watch it used for evil instead of good, as happens time and time again. As I read, I felt very connected to Samson. I wanted to know what image, what memory, would be transferred to Samson's consciousness from the mind of someone else.

Although it would be a blessing to share the good in someone else's memory (to be able to witness a loved one's entrance into the world when say, you were far away, in the military), what grace that we cannot fully share the evil in someone else's mind.

Krauss manages to nail key aspects of the human longing for connection, as well as the incredible resilience people often demonstrate in the face of tragic loss. She writes (through the narrator):

"When you're young, you think it's going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close - as close as you can get - to another person only makes clear the impassable distance between you.... You fall in love, it's intoxicating, and for a little while you feel like you've actually become one with the other person. Merged souls, and so on. You think you'll never be lonely again. Only it doesn't last and soon you realize you can only get so close, and you end up brutally disappointed, more alone than ever, because the illusion - the hope you'd held on to all those years - has been shattered.... But see, the incredible thing about people is that we forget ... time passes and somehow the hope creeps back and sooner or later someone else comes along and we thing this is the one. And the whole thing starts all over again. We go through our lives like that, and either we just accept the lesser relationship - it may not be total understanding, but it's pretty good - or we keep trying for the perfect union, trying and failing, leaving behind us a trail of broken hearts, our own included. In the end, we die as alone as we were born, having struggled to understand others, to make ourselves understood, but having failed in what we once imagined was possible."

Later, she writes of the horrific experiment:

"No matter how great the desire to be understood, the mind cannot abide any presence but its own. To enter another's consciousness and stake a flag there was to break the law of absolute solitude on which that consciousness depends. It was to threaten, and perhaps irrevocably damage, the essential remoteness of the self. This transgression was unforgivable."

Thus, our consciousness is the very thing that keeps us separate from another, yet this separation is actually quite necessary and beneficial. It is interesting to contemplate how I might respond to the loss of all memory apart from my childhood memories.

Apart from some raunchy talk in spots, I found the book to be quite interesting. It raises questions worth thinking about. It would especially appeal to male readership, I believe. It is a quick read, yet will leave you thinking for a good while after.

Mystery Solved, Heirloom Uncovered

2011-08-14T19:27:00.000-07:00

Sixteen years ago, I created a counted cross stitch picture as a memorial to the baby I miscarried. I remembered taking it along in my purse to a store to purchase a suitable mat for the frame I had selected. That is all I remembered.

For years, I have wondered what ever happened to the cross stitch I had worked so diligently on. It wasn't just any old cross-stitch. It held tremendous meaning for me. I was so crushed that I couldn't find it.

Then, this weekend, I went down into our basement to root around in our storage boxes for a suitable frame for the Thomas Kincaid print I purchased last week at the thrift. There were several frames in a box full of decorations I used to have up in our older apartments (from when we were first married). We moved to a small house when Bryce was one and I guess it just felt very temporary. Plus, there wasn't much wall room for decorations. So, this box has been in storage for fourteen years.

Here is what I found:

When I pulled it out, I had to say "Awwww!" I was super thrilled to know that I didn't lose it in a store (apparently something was up with my memory skills even back then because I didn't even remember framing it). Since I didn't include a last name on it, I had always assumed that even if someone had found it, they would have been unable to identify the owner.

I am overjoyed. I showed it to the boys. They know all about my baby Colin. Now this memorial can be displayed again.

CBLI Part Two - Rippin' Zip Line Fun

2011-08-13T08:01:00.000-07:00

My least favorite part of CBLI this year? On Friday night, during the lengthy Kid's Night program, I had to have Sean with me throughout. He isn't very patient, so I pulled out my brand new I-Pod Touch (birthday gift at the end of May). It was a god-send because he played games quietly throughout the meeting. However, on the way out the door (I should have taken it from him the minute we left our seats), he dropped it on the pavement. Yikes! The screen shattered:

I was heartbroken. When I returned home, I searched I-Pod Touch on E-bay and felt much better when I saw one that looked like it had been dropped from a twenty story building. Somehow another's pain eases and minimizes our own.

That was one minor setback in an otherwise enjoyable camp experience.

I believe our absolute favorite free time activity this year was undoubtedly ... the zip line. Our friends, Laura and Annie, who roomed across the hall from us in Sandpiper convinced us to go:

It was the perfect year to give it a try and we loved it so much we went back day after day after day.

It is composed of a tall wooden structure about 40 feet tall:

We climbed the stairs, tightened on our harnesses and waved goodbye before jumping off a tiny platform extended out over the ground (truly, this was the worst part for us timid folks ... however, both of my boys just walked right off the edge without lingering).

Here's Trevor riding upside down:

And Sean "the Fearless One":

Even I rode the zip line. I figured, if I'm ever going to do it, I'd better attempt it now, while I'm still in my mid-forties!

Here's a brief video of Trevor:

And one of Sean:

The boys also decided to try the "Giant Swing." There was no way in the world I was trying that. You have to sit suspended over the ground and then scooch your rear end off to swing down violently.

Here's Trevor doing it:

And, not to be outdone, Sean, of course:

As I said, we were there almost daily!

It was a wonderful week of memorable fun. Then, we were privileged to see something unusual on the drive home when we saw this castle near Harvard, Illinois:

Looking forward to CBLI 2012 already!

Our CBLI Experience - Part One

2011-08-11T08:06:00.001-07:00

Prior to leaving for CBLI (Central Bible Leadership Institute), we had five days of peaceful quiet. Trevor spent from Sunday through Thursday at his grandmother's house. It seems horrible to say, but all of us enjoyed the quiet. I accomplished so much more than usual. Bryce and Sean spent loads of time cuddled in with each other on the couch or bed playing with I-Pods.

Amazingly, Grandma said that Trevor was as good as gold. The moment we arrived (Thursday night), he began showing off for his brothers. It was good to know that he behaved for Grandma, but it sure would be nice if we had a bit less attention seeking here in our home. Ha!

We spent the night there Thursday and then headed for CBLI on Friday morning. Before we left, Trevor showed us the helmet and knife Grandpa used during World War II:

He also presented Sean with some gifts that Grandma allowed him to buy: a necklace (broken within an hour - sob,sob) and this "adorable" shirt (?).

We were placed in Sandpiper cabin again this year, which meant a huge walk up a steep hill several times each day. It also meant no Internet access. However, the real plus to Sandpiper is the close proximity to friends and a lounge to watch movies in (I watched "A Beautiful Mind" in the evening while the boys slept) and play. Of course, there's always the hallway, too:

The boys were really pleased with their classes. Trevor's kid's track featured loads of exploratory science experiments. They made slime, dropped eggs from a tall ladder (attempting to avoid breaking), decorated a t-shirt, and investigated owl pellets (yuck). He also loved the daily trips to the pool.

Sean's 4s and 5s class studied bugs and God's creation. Sean even was able to hold a tarantula, with no squeamishness at all. At the end of camp, they always present a video about what has gone on in the small children's classes. This year they asked the fours and fives questions designed to get "kids-say-the-darnedest-things" kind of responses. Sean delivered when he answered their question of who the Commissioner is. When asked what he wants to be when he grows up? Tall! You can view this here It is a short, five minute video.

The boys also enjoyed the carnival on Wednesday. They played games and had their faces/arms painted. With tickets won at the games, they were able to buy some cool prizes (like a Paper Jamz guitar, Hot Wheels cars, etc.).

As for me, perhaps I was just in the right place for things to mesh, but I would say this was the most productive year for me, spiritually, in a long time. I appreciated Commissioner Ken Baillie's instruction during the Bible Study time (didn't miss one - a first). Plus, I really gained a lot from Linda Himes' class on Titus. It was a precept class. Generally, I find this method of study quite tedious with all the focus on individual words and the circling and underlining and noting. However, when it comes to Linda Himes' classes, she always manages to bring us around by the final class to a place where the whole thing gels into a complete picture. For me, I liken it to a painter, painstakingly making little dots on a canvas, until in the end it reveals a bigger picture that is beautiful and uplifting. More than anything, I believe these two classes stirred within me a passionate desire to get back into the Word of God more fully (and more daily).

I was also thrilled with the leadership of Major Steve Yoder. From the outset of the first evening meeting, he did a fabulous job of making everyone feel welcome and included. After getting things off the ground, Linda Himes led us in a massive game of Bunco (new for me). Even though it was a bit intimidating at first, it provided a wonderful ice-breaker so that we left feeling we had made connections with the other adults at camp. Usually, it takes me about three days to feel a sense of belonging at CBLI. This year, Steve and Linda produced that feeling by the end of the welcome meeting.

But my favorite day of all was the second Friday. On that day, one of my married friends, Tom and Cheryl, offered inclusion in a Ladies Day Out. Tom took on numerous children (ten to twelve, I'm guessing) and supervised them (with the help of the lifeguards) at the pool, while us ladies went into Antioch, Illinois.

We began our time at a delightful ice cream shop, then posed for a funny photo in front of the tattoo parlor (humorous because some of us are Salvation Army officers), then investigated an interesting jewelry shop (bedecked with posed mannequins that made me slightly uncomfortable - ha) and rounded out our time at the local thrift shop (where I found an educational insect game, three workbooks, a Thomas Kincaid print and a frame - all for about $6). This is the kind of thing that I just don't get enough of these days and I thanked Tom and Cheryl profusely!

Lessons from the Smitten Kitchen

2011-08-04T11:21:00.000-07:00

I love the Smitten Kitchen blog. Even though I'm not one to spend loads of time in the kitchen myself, I adore bringing up her beautiful posts, chock full of pictures that make me salivate and wish I were more domestic. I will often find myself making a mental note to come back and try one of her recipes.

So, I finally did it. Only, I didn't exactly do it well. I attempted to make her Whole-Wheat Raspberry Ricotta Scones.

For starters, I didn't copy the recipe or take it with me when I went to the store. Thus, I remembered to purchase raspberries and ricotta, but failed to pick up any heavy cream (I had to google that to discover that it was half and half - it was always just called heavy cream when I purchased it in England). Alas, I had no half and half.

I googled substitutions for heavy cream and came up with something suggesting heating milk and butter together. The only time I buy butter is when I plan to bake Christmas cookies. So, I had no butter, either.

In my very own slip-shod fashion, I threw the recipe together, taking every short-cut imaginable. For the cream, I added a slightly smaller amount of 2 percent milk. Since I had no pastry blender, I used a fork (couldn't be bothered with slowly chopping a knife through the mix).

I also couldn't be bothered with rolling the darn thing out, so I just plopped it on my foil lined pan and pressed it down into a circular shape (she made a rectangle). She cut them into nine pieces. I cut mine into eight pie wedges.

I popped it in the oven and waited. The house began to smell deliriously yummy! The raspberry wafted all around our heads. My children even noticed it and asked what I was making.

When it came time to remove the scone from the oven, I began to see the error of my ways. While she had separated the small square pieces (allowing them to bake more thoroughly), I had left it all in a lump and the middle was not done, but the edges were beginning to look slightly burnt.

Still, I must say, it looked stunning when I finally pulled it out. The piece on my plate next to my cup of coffee beckoned me as soon as it had cooled.

Sadly, the thing was as dry as sawdust. Plus, the berries (I should have remembered that I don't care for raspberries for this very reason) were so gritty that little particles remained in my teeth.

I have eaten two wedges. The rest is wrapped in the freezer. I'm guessing it will take up residence there for a suitable amount of time (we'll pretend that it is sub-letting space in the freezer) and will eventually be tossed in the trash or fed to the birds. Hey, now there's a suitable end for it. It must be destined for the birds.

Lessons: 1) Follow Smitten Kitchen's every step - she knows what she's doing (after all she tests these things in her kitchen often enough to get all those stunning photos). 2) Make sure all ingredients are accurate. (Would the thing have been more moist if I had used butter and cream???) 3) Not every food that looks amazing will end up tasting amazing (an awful lot like "don't judge a book by its cover," right?). 4) For a good laugh, view Smitten Kitchen's photography next to mine!

Pics from Holiday World

2011-08-02T08:46:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to schedule posts ahead of time to fill the time while we're gone at our 10 day Bible camp (CBLI). So, when I realized that I never posted any of my own photos of Holiday World, it seemed like the perfect filler (Grandma will enjoy these photos).

When we arrived at the hotel, the little boys claimed the hot tub and Bryce claimed the king size bed. Eventually, when they were toweled dry, Trevor and Sean ended up in the king bed with Bryce watching him play a game on the I-Pod. (Have I mentioned that I received an I-Pod Touch for my birthday? It has a camera option on it. Bryce has been bugging me to trade I-Pods now because he feels I would "do better on an I-Pod with less options to make mastery easier." Translation: "Yours goes faster than mine and has a camera, plus phone option, plus you can't even seem to figure anything out so I don't know why you won't give me your new birthday gift and take my old Generation 1 I-Pod Touch!!!!!")

These next pictures are really rather pathetic, but they do capture how hot the day was. You can see the sweat dripping off Trevor and Sean's hair. If they followed my blog (hee-hee, as if) they would be mortified that the only ride I bothered to take a photo of was the one lame kiddie ride I made them go on:

When we arrived home, the boys switched from I-Pod Touch to Playstation. I loved these two photos of Bryce and Sean cuddled up together playing the Spongebob Squarepants game together:

You can see that Sleepy Bear still holds a place of honor in Sean's heart. I don't plan on taking any action to stop that because it is so precious. Besides, I'm pretty sure he won't be taking Sleepy Bear to college, still sucking on those two beloved fingers. In the meantime, he remains my sweet-hearted baby.

Corralling the Horses

2011-07-31T15:50:00.000-07:00

One of the concepts which Mike presented to me was the idea of "corralling my horses." As he explained it, I have many gifts and many deeply felt emotions. It is quite possible that I have more horses in my corral than others have in theirs and thus more horses to responsibly manage. While someone else might only have five horses, and experience no great difficulty in keeping these horses in line, I have (his example) fifty horses and at time find it quite challenging to keep them in my corral where they belong.

I believe part of the reason he gave me this image was so that I would stop trying to find fault with myself all over the place. He wanted to silence my tendency to think there is something wrong with me which triggers the depression and the inability to deal with the life I have been dealt. If I compare myself to others, they might have absolutely no difficulty living in the middle of the country with no close friends and the constant demands of small children. I need to think about the fact that I am unique and my manner of coping, as well as the level of effort this requires, will not be the same as someone else's coping tactics or effort levels.

Most of the time, I don't really share with my family what I'm learning from the counsel. Sometimes I get off the phone from my weekly session and the boys can tell that I have been upset, but I rarely discuss what we have been discussing. Yet, a few weeks back, when Mike presented me with this word picture, I felt a need to share it with the child who is most like me, Trevor.

Trevor and I had gone on a walk. As we went along, I told him about Mike's analogy concerning a person's gifts and emotions. I emphasized that some people have a limited number of horses and their horses stay in the corral quite easily, but that others, like me, have fifty horses and sometimes find it difficult to keep a handle on all the emotions and gifts.

I turned to him and asked, "Well, how many horses do you think you have in your corral?" I wasn't surprised when he told me he probably had fifty. But his next comment slayed me. He said, "Yeah, and I think my biggest horse of all is called 'Art'."

When I passed this on to Mike, I had to explain it a bit. He doesn't know that Trevor lives and breathes art and even writes his own art blog. He said it made him chuckle so much that he shared it with his wife.

Now, I have a little supervisor around me. When I get extra upset about something, Trevor will pipe up with "Mom, you'd better corral those horses!"

I don't mind because there are plenty of times when I have to say the same back to him! Ha!

Addressing the Missing Social Spokes

2011-07-29T13:40:00.000-07:00

Our new Salvation Army corps officers recently requested volunteers to help take some disadvantaged children to Target for some back-to-school shopping. Although I don't want to take on so much that I feel even more depleted than I already am (caring for three boys and a husband), I do believe that volunteering helps to meet my personal need for social interaction and caring (as Liz commented on the last post). When I discovered the officers would provide supervision for Sean in the gym while I assisted (Trevor is visiting his Grandma for a few days), I jumped at the opportunity.

I was paired with a delightful 6th grader named Monay. She told me that she is named after the artist Monet, but her mother wanted to spell it differently. She just recently moved into the neighborhood near our Salvation Army corps and came with her younger sister, Dayonna, who is going into kindergarten.

We were given a budget of $80 for the purchase of school uniforms and school supplies. Monay was my kind of girl. She explained to me at the outset that when she shops with her Mom, they find something and then hang it on the end of the cart handle. If they find a similar item for a cheaper price, they return the more expensive item to the racks and place their final choice in the cart.

Monay was true to her word, and a delight to shop with. As we neared the end of her list, she ran into her sister and sister's shopping buddy. She turned into an extension of her mother. She picked up each extravagant item and informed her sister that she really didn't need an $11 pencil box that looked like a mini suitcase, covered in sparkles and labelled for a princess when she could purchase a plastic one for 50 cents and then have more to spend on other school supplies she really needed, like glue and pencils and markers.

As we sat waiting for all the other children to finish going through the check-out line, Monay turned to me and told me that she really enjoyed shopping with me. That made my day!

Here is a photo of me and Monay:

And one of her little sister, Dayonna:

Later that day, I visited with a lovely retired lady named Delores. I met Delores a few weeks ago, when she was having a garage sale at her son's home. She was selling the cutest little note cards accompanied by a tea bag holder and tea bag, with this little poem tucked inside:

"Wish we could get together
and have a cup of tea,
but since we can't
when you drink this
I hope you'll think of me."

I purchased one and sent it to my mother. Then, I began to kick myself for not purchasing more (they were only 50 cents each). So, I drove back to the house and asked for her name and number. She invited me to come to her house and purchase more.

Here are the six additional ones I purchased:

I plan to give one to my mother-in-law, since she is often looking for little money-making projects for bazaars at her Salvation Army corps.

It was such a lovely thing to stand and chat with Delores for a while. She certainly puts people at ease. I found myself telling her all about our house here, my parents in Florida, their ministry to retired officers, my family Christmas visits and how spread out my family is. When she heard that my brother lives in Kentucky, she asked where. She couldn't believe it when I explained that he used to live in Wilmore. That is the exact town her nephew lives in because he attends Asbury College. I went on to tell her that my father went to Asbury and so did my brother, Mark, and sister, Dawn.

I'm feeling like the social spokes, which have been neglected, are finally being restored somewhat. Plus, I have a handful of clever little crafts to give out to others.

Lessons from Life Coaching

2011-07-27T18:49:00.000-07:00

As my previous post explained that not all doctors are created equal ... or are equally effective and helpful, so also not all counselors are created equal. My battle with depression has been a long one, beginning with the miscarriage of my first pregnancy. I believe prior to counselling with Mike, I worked with three other counselors. Most of the others followed the same protocol. They asked probing questions, listened as I answered and wrote things down on a pad of paper. I got the feeling that the whole of counselling was the opportunity to unload pent up feelings and emotions (valuable, but something I can do in journal form).

Mike is a breed apart. I first began counselling with him when my husband and I were separated (now a dozen years ago). In fact, Mike was recommended to my husband (a reluctant counsel-seeker) by our then pastor. I was astonished when my husband came home glowing about how effective Mike was. He urged me to switch from my counsel in Wheaton (quite a drive from DeKalb, anyway) to working with Mike.

I've never seen Mike write one thing down about me in a session. He does ask questions, but he allows my answers to lead to the next question and often confronts bad thinking immediately and sometimes boldly, even brashly. Usually the first question requires an assessment of where I'm at right then. "Fine" is never acceptable and explanations are always in order.

I will not hesitate to admit that I am dysfunctional. I suppose we all are in some way. Mike has a gift for helping me to see my dysfunction more clearly and take steps to change. I am grateful for the chance to do this long distance life-coaching at this juncture in my life. It was a blessing that he already knew a fair share of both my personal and marital baggage.

I wanted to share some of the things I have been learning about myself because I'm pretty sure that they are lessons that someone else might benefit from as well. Even though my circumstances are unique and my personality may be different than someone else's, the insights still bear importance for anyone.

To begin with, Mike affirmed that there is a lot of "not-Wendy" floating around in my life at present. I feel powerless and my world seems so small. I place everyone else's needs before my own. Then, when I feel depleted, I grow angry and bitter and seem to think there is something objectionable about me.

But I'm not where I'm at (miserable and depressed) at the fault of anyone else. I abdicated responsibility for the meeting of my needs to everyone else, assuming they will step in and make sure my needs are met. Ain't gonna happen! Mike nailed my negative vortex clearly. He said I live by unrealistic expectations, then my low (depleted) performance launches me into self-critical mode. I spend too much of my emotional energy on stupidity instead of taking back ground for myself and mending the spokes that are broken in my life (spiritual, relational, intellectual, creative).

Another thing he had me think about was the inequality in so many of my relationships. I tend to carry relationships. I do all the calling. I pursue and care and give, but receive little in return. He likened it to opening a bank account with a friend. We go in to open the account and I put up $80, but the other person puts up $20. The other person is willing to withdraw without recognizing the imbalance and they don't care as much because they haven't invested much. (Perfect example: the "friend" for whom I purchased a one-hour massage because she said she's "always up for a massage," but then hasn't bothered to respond to any e-mails or calls since. Now, thanks to Mike, I'm "withdrawing all my money from that account" and I will utilize the two one-hour massages myself - even though they are in her Indiana town.)

A further key message I have been hearing: I need to stop damning Wendy and begin discovering Wendy. I need to stop asking for permission to be who I am. I need to stand up for my wants and needs and trust what I feel in situations. Here's a challenging one for me: "Dare to displease the people you are afraid to displease." Fear and guilt have been running my life and I have to put a stop to that for my very survival's sake. I need a regular pattern of nourishment.

Mike also helped me to see that I am basically drowning in the shallow end of the pool because I wasn't made for wading, I was made for swimming in the deep water. When I attended the book group and was able to interact intellectually with other women, I was firing on all cylinders. Instead of recognizing that this environment doesn't allow me to thrive (like trying to plant corn in sand), I tend to jump to the assessment that something is wrong with me because I'm not thriving here. I condemn the seed, instead of recognizing bad soil.

I also seem to believe that I'm only valuable to the measure of my "usability." I unconsciously attract "users" and then resent giving too much and only being valued when I am useful to them. I need to give myself the unconditional love God has for me. When I make wise choices it honors God. When I am inauthentic (merely jumping through the hoops of someone else's expectations and needs so that the waters stay calm), I am not giving God the best part of me. I am compromising who He has intended me to be.

Finally, I am learning to pay more attention to my focus (i.e., pay attention to what has my full attention). I waste my energy focusing on my weaknesses rather than identifying and tapping into my strengths. I need to redeem the Wendy that was meant to be. Here's another Mike word-picture: Like Superman, I need to be careful not to let my fear of the kryptonite keep me from remembering and focusing on the fact that I can fly and scale large buildings and use my super-powers. I need to take back my power and focus on the person I want to be! I have to carve out an intentional future.

I am a work in progress. With the combination of appropriate medications and beneficial life-coaching, I am getting to the place where I can see light at the other end of the tunnel again. I don't want to give up another day in useless misery. I don't want to be a slave to the shoulds and oughts (as Mike says: "Quit shoulding all over yourself!") but want to give myself grace to accept who I am and focus on becoming the me I've not yet taken hold of!

The Misadventures and Miracles of Medicine

2011-07-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

I'm a very transparent person. On the whole, I think this makes people uncomfortable. Still, it is part of who I am and how I roll. So, I have made no bones about the fact that I have been very lonely and severely depressed.

Even still, this revelation takes people by surprise. When I mentioned to a sibling that I had been really battling suicidal thoughts, it seemed "impossible." I had appeared so "normal" at Christmas time.

Depressed people can generally mask their feelings of despair while in a room of relatives. It is when I am on my own, feeling the weight of the world, and more, on my shoulders, that I succumb to the sentiments of nobody really caring whether I exist or not. In my heart, I believe my family would grieve, but my emotions scream that I am all alone, without any one to catch my back when I fall.

In the midst of my deepest depressions, I have always, ALWAYS, felt loathe to begin another regimen of antidepressants. I worry what these drugs are doing to my body. I fear they are altering things in my brain in ways that can never be resolved. I want the sadness to disappear without having to rely upon a pill.

This spring, however, I began to really fear my own depth of despair. It wasn't merely concern for my own emotions, but also for the example and repercussions playing out in my children's lives. I decided I had better take some action, so I sought out a psychiatrist.

As I prepared myself for this visit, I re-familiarized myself with my personal medical file. As I was going through the paper work and trying to assess which medications I had been on in the intervening years of depression since Sean's birth, I came across something that almost made my heart stop.

I had been seeking counsel from a DO (Doctor of Osteopathy - naturalistic medicine) because I wasn't gaining any answers from the standard medical community. He had immediately diagnosed me with hypothyroidism and placed me on dessicated pig thyroid (a natural alternative to the synthetic thyroid regular doctors would have prescribed). After several months, when the fatigue and the strangling despair continued, he ordered new labs to assess the efficacy of the thyroid meds.

I went in for the lab follow-up appointment and he pointed out that the thyroid medication wasn't making a dent in the thyroid reading, so he took me off that medicine. Instead he placed me on a large dose of Vitamin D and Iron (based on my deficiencies in the lab read-out) and gave me some samples for a drug called "Deplin" because he said it helps to boost the folate levels (also registering low). He urged me to see a psychiatrist.

A few weeks later, his office called again to say that I needed a lab follow-up appointment. I wasn't terribly nice in that phone conversation. I said that I keep paying out money for these follow-up appointments, when nothing is changing in my medical condition. I argued that I had already received the lab results in my last appointment. After that call, I decided to wash my hands of this D.O.

And it's a good thing I did! As I scanned my file, I noticed that the results signifying no change in my thyroid levels and indicating low levels of folate, iron and vitamin D ... they belonged to someone else! This supposed doctor sat there reviewing what he claimed was my lab results and even gave me a copy of the lab results for a completely different individual. I don't even want to think about what could have happened. And I'm not terribly sure what course of action I should take. It seems obvious that something should be done, but I'm not sure what that something is!

However, back to my psychiatrist visit. That went fabulously. I felt immediately at ease with the doctor and felt thoroughly understood. He listened and then declared that I am basically "starving." I may have food and shelter, but all the other human needs are being neglected. He suggested that I should attempt to find a group of like-minded individuals closer to Indianapolis (since my efforts here at home have met with little success) to nurture my intellectual, emotional, relational and spiritual needs.

He also placed me on an antidepressant I felt good about. In the years since Sean's birth, other doctors have placed me on various new antidepressants and I worry that these drugs have not been tested thoroughly. My first antidepressant experience with Paxil may have led to my oldest son's birth defect of hemi-facial microsomia (asymmetrical face). The only antidepressant that I have ever felt entirely positive about was Wellbutrin and this psychiatrist felt that it was the right fit for my needs.

As soon as I went on the medicine, I began to notice positive changes. However, I still wasn't up to 100 percent. Thus, he decided to add a mood stabilizer, Abilify, and I cannot begin to explain how well these two drugs work for me. I am much closer to myself. I can be in the midst of chaos and stress without feeling like I'm going to have a panic attack. I am entirely present, whereas before it felt like things were going on and I wasn't fully aware. When I wake up in the morning, I actually want to accomplish things.

It feels like a miracle. I am so very grateful for the medication (even though I fight the drug regimen when I'm off it). I'm thankful to be able to function more like myself and to gain back the ability to feel strong connection to my children.

In addition to the medicinal help, I have also been receiving some life coaching. I would like to share all that I have been learning about my self and the self-defeating tendencies I carry. That will have to wait for another post because there is so much to say. For now, I'm thanking God for the miracle of medicine and accepting the fact that for whatever reasons (He knows) ... I need them at this point in life.

Book Review: The Secret Year

2011-07-23T19:02:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure I would have continued reading this book if it hadn't been my selected reading for our trip to Holiday World last week. The cover was intriguing enough (everybody loves a juicy secret, right?). I often seek out books which use journals or letters within the plot because that is the particular form of fiction writing I favor.

I guess I found it very difficult to continue with a tedious story about secretive infidelity. The book had such a liberal agenda to it. It portrayed the late-night liaisons as passionate and good, introduced a character who is "coming out," and provided the classic rift between the kids who are born into money and those who are born into poverty.

In the story line, Colt has a night-time (entirely sexual) relationship (meeting down by a river) for an entire year with Julia. She claims to be unable to break off with Austin, her current (social-equal) boyfriend because their families have always assumed they would be together. Although disgruntled, Colt accepts this and continues their secretive liaisons until one night, after an argument with Colt, Julia gets in a car with an upper-class girlfriend and dies in an accident. Nobody would ever believe that Colt had truly been with Julia, but Julia's brother provides him with her journal full of unsent letters to Colt. Colt then connects with two other girls, who realize that he is clearly not over some other lover.

I have difficulty with books that normalize and aggrandize the actions of teenagers who drift in and out of each other's beds, casually voicing sentiments of "love," while failing to recognize even the slightest commitment or understanding of the other person. I can let such things go, if there is a deeper, more penetrating depth to the book, but when the entire book is merely a presentation of teenagers behaving badly (and then trying to make it look like this is all normal and fine), I just don't care for it.

Personally, I don't think the author's descriptions of teen sexuality even offer the option for true intimacy. Jumping in and out of bed with various partners because you feel a momentary pull towards them does not equal allowing another person to see inside of you (intimacy = into me see). Instead, it is a cheap and unsatisfying substitute ... a mere mirage instead of waiting for clean, pure, real water.

Plus, the author, via comments from one character, presents pregnancy as a disease instead of the beginning of a God-designed, human life. Colt describes Julia's disdain of pregnancy, saying:

"Julia had a horror of getting pregnant before she was ready.... we never risked that. 'You don't know what it's like, to worry about something (italics mine) taking over your body, your whole life,' she said."

Frankly, if I had a daughter, I might let her read this if she wanted to, but I would certainly want to provide ample disclaimers for the moral and ethical fallacies being presented as acceptable actions. For the author, however, this all is perceived as being faithful and true to the real world. She writes on her blog, "Gradually our literature is coming to resemble more closely the real world in which we live." For myself, I cannot say I would ever recommend this book to anyone else.

Book Review: Shades of Blue

2011-07-21T18:35:00.000-07:00

I'm always up for a Karen Kingsbury novel. This particular one was added to my bag at a $1 per bag library book sale several months ago. The very first exposure I ever had to Karen Kingsbury was when my mother gave my sister a gift of a Kingsbury novel, When Joy Came to Stay. I guess the title really stuck with me and I quickly became a fan of her books.

In Shades of Blue, Brad Cutler seems to have it all. He works for a New York ad agency and is engaged to the boss' beautiful daughter, Laura. With only weeks to go before their wedding, Brad begins to struggle with producing for a baby clothing ad campaign. As he tries to think through the mental blockage, he realizes that he needs to return to his home town and seek forgiveness from his first love, Emma. Kingsbury never gave the ending away, but carried the reader on for a good long time wondering which girl Brad would finally end up with and whether the hurts of the past would ever heal.

This book takes on the difficult subject of abortion. It also treats the internal sin of judging others because they fell. I found the message completely reassuring, that God loves us regardless of how we stumble. It was a quick and easy read (at times a bit too stereotypical) and an uplifting story.

I also thoroughly appreciated Karen Kingsbury's use of characters based on actual people through a program she calls "Forever in Fiction." The three characters that appeared in this novel are described in the introduction and then introduced as characters in the story. What a great way to raise money for charitable causes, while allowing families of individual warriors to see their loved one honored or memorialized in print.

Why, Boys, Why?

2011-07-19T05:17:00.000-07:00

As I've said a million times before, boys are a breed unique! There are so many things that they do that girls would never dream of. Would you like an example?

Yesterday, Trevor and Sean were outside playing on their swing set. Trev came running in to call for someone to see the gigantic spider they had caught. He had the thing (about an inch to an inch and a half in diameter) in a small lidded jar (a bouillon cube jar I had given him - that boy always wants my trash). He set it on the book bar in our guest room and I asked him to take it back outside. He said, "But I want to show it to Daddy."

At some point, Daddy looked at the thing and declared it to be a wolf spider, quite common near woods in Indiana:

Sadly, the thing was never taken back outside.

Tragically, I asked this morning if the thing was ever released back into the wild. Trevor assured me that he would do it today, but that for now it is still in the guest room.

I replied, "It would be dead by now for lack of air."

He: "No, I made a little air hole for it to breathe."

I went to the room to discover the small jar with the lid tipped slightly off. This was his "small air hole." Grrrrrr! Yikes!

We now have this spider loose somewhere in the house. I'm pretty sure Trevor and Sean will regale Bryce's friends with the story once they wake up ... Bryce's friends who slept on the floor in Bryce's room last night. Eeeeek!

Will my parents and family ever be willing to visit again? Perhaps we WILL all be meeting at Santa's Lodge after all!

Actually, my own parents are familiar with these type of boy antics. When I was growing up, my older brother Mark (now a high school biology teacher) used to love capturing various bugs and insects. One day, shortly before my parents were having guests stay in Mark's room overnight, Mark brought in a praying mantis.

Then, we discovered that it was a praying mantis giving birth to many small praying mantises. This led to a family-wide praying mantis hunt as we tried to excavate the house of all evidence of Mark's hospitality.

I suppose in Mark's case, his hospitality was to be commended, after all. We were, in fact, the home of a minister. Therefore, what better place to host a praying insect, right?

Holiday World and Santa's Lodge Vacation

2011-07-16T19:19:00.000-07:00

Ever since we moved to Indiana, we have heard people raving about their experiences with Holiday World and Splashing Safari amusement park. It has so much to recommend itself: free drinks all day, free sunscreen, family atmosphere, and the combination of both daring rides and refreshing water. Time after time, others have encouraged us to visit this park.

I have to admit, I have been dragging my heels for years. Every year, John would suggest it and I would say, "I really don't want to go to a big, crowded amusement park with two little ones and a teenager who is chomping at the bit to ride big rides all day (thus leaving me, inevitably, with the two overwrought little boys). Part of that was my growing anxiety issues (thus the near panic attacks at Big Splash Adventure and the mobbed Children's Museum), but part of it was that it just didn't sound FUN.

So, once again, I went along just because everyone else wanted to go. By the time John got around to making our accommodations all the less expensive rooms at Santa's Lodge were taken (that's his story and he's sticking to it ... but perhaps he wanted the more spacious room all along). Thus, we found ourselves in a glorious Family Whirlpool Suite.

It was marvelous. It was glorious. It was so exciting for the little boys that ... we almost turned around and went back home on the first night (perhaps you have never experienced my boys on a high of excitement and anticipation - yikes). You can actually take a virtual tour of our room here.

The room boasted a king size bed (somehow Bryce and Sean finagled that one on the first night) and two queen size pull-outs, a microwave, fridge and kitchen area. Of course, the most exciting feature of all was the jacuzzi. The boys had been talking about it all week, saying "the first thing I'm going to do when we get in the room is jump in the hot tub."

Thankfully, the Lodge also had an indoor pool (another "must-visit" for my younger boys). So the first evening, I was able to sit in a cozy room watching a lengthy (gruesome) news show interviewing Jaycee Dugard. I would have been unable to watch this at home because the content was not appropriate for child viewing. Despite the horror the show inspired, it was so wonderful to watch in peace and quiet while Daddy took the boys to swim!

Monday morning, we headed over to Holiday World and purchased two-day tickets. The anticipated heat index for the day was 110 degrees! Let me tell you, we felt it (especially Sean and I, since we are both prone to heat stroke and sun burn). If we had not been able to fill up complimentary cups of ice water repeatedly throughout the day, I don't think I would have survived. John and I also marvelled at my new-found ability to deal with the crowded lines and anxiety laden experiences (thank you, effective medicine!).

The park is divided into themed sections based on holidays. I quickly stowed our swim gear in a locker in the water park area and met the boys in the Thanksgiving section. I loved how each part played accompanying theme music. In the Thanksgiving area, we were treated to "We Gather Together."

Bryce immediately determined his favorite wooden roller coaster of all time - The Voyage. He and Trevor rode it together first (given their sibling animosity of that morning, it was a true miracle of gathering together - ha!). Of course, Bryce was so impressed that he begged Dad to ride it with him next, so I dragged Trevor and Sean into my "favorite" ride - Gobbler Getaway (favorite because it is air conditioned, has no sudden swerves or surprises and is genuinely fun) where you shoot turkeys with a laser gun. Bryce even convinced me to try this "awesome roller coaster" on the second day of our visit. With all that shaking, my insides may never be the same, but at least I can say I survived The Voyage!

(Photos courtesy of the Holiday World web site)

Other favorite rides were: the Revolution (finally the little boys were willing to ride it alone because it was making me far too dizzy) and the Legend (which I never tried because Bryce said it has such hair-raising turns that it actually gave him a headache on the first evening). Besides, because of Sean's height (44 inches) there were many things that he couldn't ride and I stayed with him while the others went on. (He has since been drinking milk like there's no tomorrow because he is convinced that it will make him grow taller. Immediately after drinking, he asks me to measure him again ... funny kid!)

The heat drove us to spend most of the day in the Splashin' Safari section, which meant that I was sporting a major lobster-shaded burn for the second day. But it was a lot of fun. I loved riding Watubee because we were all five in the inner tube together as we went down. Zinga was a bit of a disappointment because we waiting almost 50 minutes on surfaces that scorched bare feet and then the ride was quickly over. I think all the boys loved the Bahari Wave Pool the best. Even Sean was jumping to ride the waves.

Our favorite eating establishment (again, due to the intense heat) was the Plymouth Rock Cafe. The children's meals (real home-cooking, to get away from burgers and fries) were only $4. The place was air-conditioned (ahhhh) and the food was delicious.

The second day's visit was slated to be a bit cooler, but when we left the Lodge (even earlier than the first day) the temperature gauge read 98 degrees - urgh!). I was very concerned that we would end up spending a lot of time in the water and sun again, so I donned John's over sized t-shirt and Sean's floppy hat. I looked ridiculous, but I didn't damage my skin any further, so I won't complain. Plus, the second day, we remembered to bring along flip-flops and swim shoes so that the sun-scorched pavement wouldn't blister the soles of our feet so much.

Shortly after lunch, a storm blew in (and I mean blew in, because it actually pulled the umbrella right off our table). At first we were waiting it out against a wall of a building, but it was getting downright cold and the thunder and lightning were extremely dynamic. I noticed Bryce was standing by a family restroom, so I asked if anyone was in it. He and I ended up spending a half hour crammed with ten other people in the small 4 x 5 foot bathroom (we chuckled because no one offered to take the throne). I thought John and the boys were in the Pepsi Oasis, but they had come out and watched what they called "a tremendous lightning show!"

Once the storm looked like it was blowing over, we had this brilliant idea to try to get in the front of a line for the Wildebeest (billed as "America's longest water roller coaster"). Sadly, everyone else had the same idea and we discovered that the power to the ride had been knocked out. It is definitely on our to-do list for our next visit. Even the wave pool was out of the question because the lightening just kept coming back. Finally we headed to our old stand-by, Gobbler's Gathering and when even that was shut down, we went back to the Lodge.

The boys were quite bummed about the heat and storms keeping us from getting to ride all of the rides in the park or even from getting our money's worth out of our visit. Still, I reminded them, "we will never forget our first visit to Holiday World." I'm sure we'll be remembering this for years to come.

Plus, our early return to the Lodge meant that we ended up trying their downstairs restaurant/buffet. Since it was evening, the lit up decorations were stunningly beautiful. I found myself wishing my mother were there to see it. She would absolutely love a visit and a meal there. The food in the buffet was amazing! I think Bryce may have eaten 12 chicken wedges. We were all grateful for the delicious fruits and vegetables, too. And the apple cobbler was fantastic, as well.

I was so impressed that I even asked the hotel if they would send me some pictures to use on my blog post:

They don't capture the magic of seeing these decorations in the evening, but it still gives a view of how cozy and quaint the experience was. John kept saying, "we should have your family Christmas gathering here in December!" Of course, I still want to keep it here in our home, but I can understand why he'd want to bring everyone to Santa's Lodge. It was a wonderful experience. I doubt I'll drag my heels when the suggestion comes up next year!

Book Review: Love, Aubrey

2011-07-13T14:01:00.000-07:00

I must start out by saying this book was absolutely beautiful! I was drawn to the book by both the stunning cover photo and by the lovely name. I have always loved the name Aubrey and even considered bequeathing a possible daughter with that name. Alas, no daughter named Aubrey. This book has given me a character, Aubrey, who will live in my heart and mind forever.

Although the book is slated for grades 4-6, I can guarantee that adults will be drawn into the tale equally. What a powerful voice the main character has! I don't want to give away any of the details because the story unfolds like a budding flower.

I concur with this cover endorsement by Audrey Couloumbis:

"I love this novel! Aubrey is the best kind of survivor - on the surface, an ordinary girl who no one would guess had a particular talent for making it on her own. Faced with not one, but two terrible situations, she's lost and alone, and her response is to take baby steps in the right direction. I look forward to Suzanne LaFleur's next book."

Book Review: Real Murders

2011-07-11T14:00:00.000-07:00

This book was recommended at the end of the audio version of one of the Number One Ladies' Detective Agency books. I wouldn't put it in the same category as that beloved series, but it was still an enjoyable romp of a book. Think of it as a good beach read, or in my case, a good book to read whilst watching my boys play on their swing set (interruptions don't really annoy with this book because it isn't entirely riveting).

Aurora Teagarden is a young librarian in Lawrenceton, Georgia. She also participates in a club called the "Real Murders Society." This club gathers to discuss real unsolved murders. It is merely a past-time for the members, until one of the group is murdered in a re-enactment of the murder slated for discussion. Is it someone from within the group, with full knowledge of a wide variety of real murder cases? Is it the mystery author who has recently moved to Lawrenceton to teach a writing course? Even Roe (Aurora) herself is deemed suspicious by the police as they try to crack the case.

It is a pleasant enough read and fairly light fare. I would deem it average and the ending didn't really satisfy as much as I had hoped. Still, if you are looking for an easy, light mystery, this book could fit the bill.

Book Review: Minding Frankie

2011-07-09T13:44:00.000-07:00

I really cannot believe how long it has been since I've read a book by Maeve Binchy. She is a fabulous writer and has that rare Dickensian gift of being able to people a landscape with her fully embodied characters so that you feel you live right alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows. Minding Frankie continues that tradition, tying in characters previously encountered and introducing new ones.

I listened to this Binchy book. In the past, Binchy's books have been ones that I prefer to hear delivered with an accent. However, I think that I would have preferred reading this one for myself. In Minding Frankie, Binchy introduces an American relative who has come to Ireland to visit her family and ends up staying and transforming the lives in the neighborhood of St. Jarlath's Crescent. Plus, there is another character who turns up from New Zealand, claiming to be an unknown son. This narrator did a fine job with the variety of Irish accents; however, I didn't really care for her presentation of the American or New Zealand. The American, Emily, ends up with a simpering sort of voice that didn't really seem to jive with her character. The New Zealand character also seemed forced, with too many pauses and inflections.

In my opinion, Binchy did not need to introduce the American character into the scene. The Dublin set are perfectly fine without bringing in a foreigner who came off with superhuman powers of observation, organization and inspiration. Emily was, perhaps, too perfect.

Regardless of the narration and possibly unnecessary character, this was again a Binchy masterpiece. The story centers around an unmotivated fellow named Noel who discovers that he has fathered a child during one of his drunken sprees. The mother, on her deathbed, begs him to care for Frankie and keep her out of the foster system. At first Noel chooses denial, but eventually the awareness of his responsibility for this child leads him to shake off his alcoholic tendencies and apply himself in ways that no one ever thought possible.

Unfortunately, the social worker, Moira, doesn't fully believe Noel is the best fit for the child. She is determined to dig up some dirt on Noel so that she can place Frankie in a "more suitable environment." Noel surrounds himself with a whole network of people in the neighborhood who help to care for and love Frankie. In the process of minding Frankie, many characters discover that nurturing a child centers life in a powerful way.

I'm thrilled that I can pick up this most recent Binchy book without necessarily having read some of the books in between. Each of her books does a fine job of standing alone. But they also provide an enduring legacy for characters we meet again and again in the landscape of her fiction.

Book Review: Still Alice

2011-07-07T08:45:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had another wonderful opportunity to attend a book group. I love getting the chance to sit with other women and discuss the thoughts and literary devices surrounding a piece of fiction. This month's object of discussion was the book, Still Alice, by Lisa Genova.

I think that I had been earlier put off by reviews of this book. I had read somewhere (perhaps BookPage) that the book was about a woman who calls her three children together to tell them that she has early onset Alzheimer's disease and plans to take her life when her life no longer seems worth living. This idea (a false representation of the book - she never articulates the suicide plan to her children and by the time she has failed her own litmus test of importance questions, she cannot take those steps) is quite reprehensible to me. But at the same time, I can fully understand a person getting to the point where they feel that they have nothing left to offer in life and would rather choose nothingness over struggle and diminished capabilities. I found myself internally yelling at Alice, reminding her that even if she has seemingly nothing to give, God has a reason for allowing her to continue existing until He chooses to take her (I sometimes need to yell this at myself - so I'm familiar with the refrain).

We had an excellent discussion about the book. I must admit, I was dreading the possibility of a very depressing discussion. The book moved me to tears throughout my reading. I readily put myself in the place of the characters and could entirely empathize with the devastation they were experiencing. Thankfully, our discussion was not depressing (even though, the other two book club members in attendance both had family members battling Alzheimer's). We delved into topics of identity, loss, perspective, denial, and honor.

Alice Howland is a Harvard professor teaching cognitive psychology and giving lectures on linguistics. Her identity has been largely driven by her intellectual successes. She interprets a period of scattered forgetfulness (losing words during lectures, misplacing her Blackberry) as symptoms of menopause. (Perhaps this triggered my intense identification with the book because I have experienced the mental blips of menopause, where my brain doesn't seem to function as effectively as it once did.) However, when she gets lost on a run in her own neighborhood, where she has run for decades, she finally approaches a doctor. At not quite 50 years of age, she is diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's.

I have never had anyone close to me struggle with Alzheimer's. Indeed, the closest encounter I have had was observing the mother of an Army friend. She could not recognize her own children and asked repeatedly why they were in the dining hall at a camp she had attended for many, many years. It broke my heart and I could only imagine how heart-breaking it must have been for them.

Despite my lack of experience with the disease, I gained much from contemplating the idea of identity and what a person experiences when their identity is stripped. Perhaps, again, this is why I related so strongly to this book. When faced with the inevitable decline of her mental and verbal skills, her immediate thought is of the books she had always intended to read. Like a cancer patient, she must shift her perspective of life and focus only on what she wants to attempt to glean from the remaining moments of lucidity.

This book is very well-written and provides so much fodder for discussion and contemplation. Although I found it difficult to read (in the sense that it created such a deep sadness within), I could not put the book down. It is truly a book with a message for anyone and everyone. It is a reminder that, at the end of the day, the truly important things are relationships and the opportunity to love. What a great reminder for us all!

Bryce's Music Camp Awards

2011-06-28T08:35:00.000-07:00

After missing Bryce more than I ever have before, I was finally able to go with the group from the Salvation Army corps to go pick him up on Saturday. The first event of the day was an awards concert for the campers. Last year, Bryce won the solo contest and thus, played his solo for everyone in the concert.

This year, he could not find a solo he wanted to use, so I suggested he write his own. I figured that way he could showcase his strengths. When he showed me his final product, I was absolutely blown away. It looks like a professionally notated piece of music:

I think one of his great strengths is that he recognizes the need for variations in volume. Last year, his solo revealed many dynamics changes. Of course, there is only so much one can showcase when limited to performing on a mere snare drum.

I could read the disappointment on his face when he discovered that he took second place in the solo competition. The winner played an outstanding cornet solo which displayed great skill.

Bryce was disappointed again when he took the second place spot in the over-all top band awards. I was very proud nonetheless. He managed to snag the same "Top Instrumentalist" for the whole camp award again this year (which comes with a full scholarship to CMI - Central Music Institute). Altogether, he certainly cannot complain about the awards he brought home:

The medal is for the solo competition. The smaller trophy is for 2nd place in the Brengle Band. The largest trophy is the Brigadier Richard Miller Band Award for Outstanding Instrumental Musicianship.

I am really urging Bryce to take advantage of the scholarship. He may never again get the opportunity to attend this camp (a camp that I attended as a youth). Our school district is considering moving to a year-round schedule and the proposed 2012-2013 calendar reveals that CMI would fall entirely during the school calendar. This year, he would only have to miss the first three days of school.

I think this is feasible and he would easily get caught up. However, he is planning on playing football this year. He will miss a large chunk of practice time while he is gone at CBLI and doesn't want to then add another chunk of absence for CMI. The special guest there at the camp repeatedly urged Bryce to go to CMI, stating that he will easily make the top band there. I agree with another camper who was standing nearby during our discussion. When Bryce said he didn't think he should miss so much football practice, he observed, "It's not you're gonna make the NFL someday!" It will be his choice to make, but I will beam if he makes the decision I prefer.

Nature Camp

2011-06-24T13:03:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday morning, Bryce left for The Salvation Army's Indiana Divisional Music Camp. It thrills me to no end that he has been able to attend this for the past three years. I have so many wonderful memories of my music camp years. It is intensely satisfying to see him long for camp like I did.

I have been surprised by how intensely I have missed him this week. The little boys say that they don't miss him, but sometime around Wednesday or Thursday, they began talking about a Nature Camp. Trevor asserted that they were going to have Nature Camp from 1 to 4 on Friday afternoon. He planned to teach Sean all about nature.

This morning, as they were bouncing on the trampoline, it began to rain. I allowed them to stay out, but grumbled loud and long when it was time for them to come in. They didn't grumble. It was me grumbling. I can't stand the mess of wet clothes and grass and mud.

So, after lunch, I really wanted to tell them that nature camp was cancelled due to bad weather in the morning. Alas, Dad told them they could go out. I was washing the lunch dishes when I looked out and saw the most adorable sight ever. Trevor and Sean were walking along, with walking sticks in hand and backpacks on their backs, searching for rocks and sticks and leaves.

Get a load of how their dressed for their outing. Attractive, no?

Now, I have more dirty clothes to wash. I also have a garage utility counter covered with items from nature. Trevor explained how many points the different items were worth. To see the two of them enjoying each other and the great outdoors is worth a whole pile of laundry to me!

Besides, even more laundry will be arriving tomorrow when Bryce returns home from camp. With boys comes endless laundry!

Book Review: Same Kind of Different as Me

2011-06-23T13:24:00.000-07:00

This is the true story of an unlikely friendship that developed between an international art dealer and a homeless man. It is told in alternating voices. Ron Hall tells of his humble background and his rise in fortune as he pursued his job as an art dealer. It is his wife who encourages him to meet and befriend, Denver Moore. She feels led of the Lord to begin ministering at the local homeless shelter and sees a clear vision of a man who will change the city. When Denver storms in, threatening to kill whomever it was who stole his shoes, she nudges her husband to let him know that this is the man from her vision.

Although Ron is skeptical, his devotion to his wife propels him to pursue a friendship. However, Denver is not an easy mark. At first, he will not have anything to do with them. When the question of friendship is finally broached, Denver asserts that he must think about it a while. He agrees to be Ron's friend on the condition that Ron promise it will not be a "catch-and-release" deal, much like the crazy practice Denver says white men use when fishing.

This is an outstanding story. It is both humbling and inspiring. What I wouldn't give for a friendship as strong and true as the one Ron Hall and Denver Moore share! What I wouldn't give for the clear, life-fulfilling, vision Deborah Hall experienced!

Book Review: Monsters of Men

2011-06-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

While waiting for our library to acquire this third installment, Monsters of Men, in Patrick Ness' Chaos Walking series, I almost forgot about it. The first two books pulled me in with a super magnetic pull. I was hooked from the very beginning by the intriguing idea that all of the men in this dystopia were unable to silence the audible noise of their inner-most thoughts.

Each book moves at an incredible pace. You feel propelled from beginning to end. However, I think the appeal, for me anyway, diminished with each book. I was most impressed by The Knife of Never Letting Go and when it ended, I was anxious to locate the second installment. The Ask and the Answer was equally riveting, but plot elements began to feel outlandish and drawn out. It began to feel unbelievable that so many difficulties would beset the main characters, Todd and Viola, as they attempted to evade the pursuing armies and bring peace to the chaotic world.

I won't say that I didn't enjoy Monsters of Men. I did enjoy it. I couldn't put it down, from beginning to end. But, again, I began to feel slight disappointment with the over-embellished plot elements. In this book, Patrick Ness, adds another narrator voice and I never really felt connected to that third primary character. This third narrator seems so much more highly evolved and his perspectives (and those of his kind) were loftier than the humans.

Although, I understood the point Ness was trying to hammer home, that war makes monsters of men, it seemed a bit too preachy and over the top with endless new wrinkles to the progress of the story. In addition, I felt hoodwinked by the ending (a confusing episode where a character dies, but then comes back to life). I suppose my final analysis is that it just required a bit too much "willful suspension of disbelief."

Still, I heartily recommend this series. It is fast-paced and thoroughly absorbing. I have encouraged my non-reading teen son to attempt it (if he is ever required to select something for a class - I'm not to the point of forced summer reading). The books are sure to appeal to both male and female teen readers. Due to the graphic descriptions of violence and the language, I would not recommend this series for middle grade readers. However, the books do clearly reflect the corrupting nature of power and the tenuous balance of information overload. They provide plenty of profitable things to think about and a romp of a ride.

Annual Fun at Indiana Beach

2011-06-18T13:15:00.000-07:00

This year, we made our annual trek to Indiana Beach a bit earlier in the season (almost two weeks ago, in fact). We discovered that it was cheaper to purchase season passes than to pay for two days entrance. We were not disappointed. With each season pass purchase, they gave us a coupon booklet with a variety of valuable discounts off parking, food and games. This will enable me to spontaneously decide to make a day trip with the boys.

The younger boys were abuzz with excitement over all the rides they are now tall enough to ride. I was certain that Sean would chicken out when it came to riding the big roller coasters. Alas, I was wrong. I really wouldn't have minded if it had been the Corn Ball Express (it was closed both days), but he wanted to ride the Hoosier Hurricane (a large wooden roller coaster that shakes me up too much). Trevor rode several of the big rides all by himself (including the Steel Hawg, an upside down roller coaster).

Since temperatures were in the nineties, I even consented to riding the large log flume ride. We had a wonderful time on all the rides.

I can't say that my favorite part is the time at the beachfront, partly because I tend to fry in the sun, but the boys sure enjoy it. There is a splash zone, where they can run through the water.

Trevor, always one to pick up trash (treasures) from the ground, picked up a pair of stray glasses and posed for the camera. Nutball!

John is planning a trip to Holiday World in July (we've never been, despite many hearty recommendations), but I think Indiana Beach is just my speed. It is fairly quiet (during weekdays) and you can ride without spending too much time standing in line. The rides aren't too death-defying.

My only complaint would be that the park continues to grow more commercialized every year. I wish they would return to allowing picnic lunches to be brought into the park (especially in these times of economic decline) or providing more fruits and vegetables for purchase within the park (the boys end up eating fries, corn dogs and burgers). Still, they maintain that convenient option of merely walking through the park without riding or swimming (a real plus during the years when I was pregnant). All in all, our family loves a good trip to Indiana Beach!

And the Winner Is ...

2011-06-12T18:05:00.000-07:00

Today, we placed the Father's Day giveaway participant names in a bowl and my youngest son drew out the winning slip of paper.

And the winner is ... Shasta. Hope your husband enjoys his Father's Day read of Captain Dan Keating's fisherman's apologetic: Angling Life.

Thanks to everyone who took time to comment and enter the contest.

The Perfect Gift for a Passionate Writer

2011-06-11T15:15:00.000-07:00

I've been discontented. I've been frustrated. I've felt like a fish out of water. Despite a dedicated conviction that the very best thing for my boys is for me to be wholly available during their first five years of life, the actual living out of the 24/7 mothering role whoops my butt! I need more than conversations with preschoolers. I need stimulating, thought-provoking interaction (like the kind I treasured earlier this month when I went to my very first book club meeting). My mind craves far more and I find myself adrift.

Thus, for the past few weeks, I have been thinking long and hard about what kind of direction to steer my ship, now that I am approaching the end of this long care-giving stint. I need to determine a passion and follow it wholeheartedly. I am desperate to carve out space for pursuing my own goals and gifts.

In thinking of my giftedness, I remembered a gift that I received one Christmas that was perfect for me. The only problem was that I didn't consider it to be perfect at the time. Indeed, I sort of resented receiving it.

The Christmas of my 18th year, we met with my older brother who was living in Chicago (we had moved to South Dakota). David gave my sister, Dawn, (15 at the time) a beautiful, trendy outfit. She was thrilled. I opened my present and found a college edition boxed set dictionary and thesaurus. It was truly the perfect gift for a passionate writer.

But, I remember vividly the crushing disappointment that I had not also received a beautiful outfit. I remembered feeling put out that my brain was being recognized but not my beauty. It was as if I was hearing the endless message (probably one I internalized all through my growing up years) that my sister was the pretty, fashionable one and I was the intellectual.

Today, my sons once again dragged out my beloved dictionary. They love to heft it off the shelf and look up the last page. They are blown away that it contains 1692 pages of words. The only other book upstairs that comes close to that is our Dorling-Kindersley Complete Home Medical Guide. I yell at them to leave it alone because I am afraid they will push it into the book graveyard. It is already close to the edge. The binding barely holds together and many pages are creased and almost torn.

The set, over the past 28 years, has become vital. Time after time I have reached for both dictionary and thesaurus to hone a passage or word in my writing. I would be crushed if I had to replace those books. They support and nurture one of my clearest passions - writing.

I do not have a passion for fashion or a smile for style. Indeed, I've never been mad for a fad. I truly don't care. As long as it fits and compliments my shape, I'm good to go. Plus, the price usually trumps the trend, for me.

I took time to count my blessings for the dictionary and thesaurus this morning. I imagine whatever trendy outfit David might have given me would be long gone, certainly no longer gracing my wardrobe. Yet, I turn to these books over and over. He saw my passion and he gifted wisely. How wonderful that I learned to appreciate the gift!

Now, my goal - my focus, really - is to appreciate my giftedness and lay it before the Lord for His use. I am reminded of a song written by a wonderful Salvation Army composer, William Himes, during a time when his wife was dying of cancer. I pray these words today:

"All that I am,
All I can be,
All that I have,
All that is me ...
Accept and use, Lord,
As You would choose, Lord,
Right now today.
Take every passion,
Every skill,
Take all my dreams and
Bend them to Your will.
My all I give, Lord.
For you I'll live, Lord,
Come what may.

Often I come with my problems and cares,
Running to You when distressed,
But I must bring You the whole of my life.
Lord, I must give You my best.

Life has no purpose unless it is Yours.
Life without You has no goal.
All that fulfills me is doing your will,
Knowing that You're in control."

You can listen to the song at this You Tube link.

Longing for the Road Not Taken

2011-06-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

There was a time when my musical instrument was my passion. And I mean PASSION! During the high school years, I practiced so many hours on my Alto Horn (a brass instrument slightly smaller than a baritone and in the key of E-flat) that my brothers began to call me "Metallic Lips." I had a clear goal and I would stop at nothing until I reached it. That goal was to make it into the very top band, Wonderland Band, at Central Music Institute (a famed Salvation Army band camp in the Central Territory).

Make it, I DID! I will never forget the first rehearsal. A friend of mine, Kevin, was also getting his first exposure to playing in a top-notch band like Wonderland Band. He and I exchanged glances that said, "Can you believe we're here? Can you believe we are living this incredible dream?" It was powerful. I wanted that moment to last forever. I wanted that music to last forever. I wanted those friendships, honed in part by the music, to last forever.

Forever DIDN'T happen. Life intervened. Shortly before my senior year in high school, I was approached by the bandmaster of the Chicago Staff Band with news of an opening in the horn section the following January. All I needed to do was graduate from high school one semester early. Sadly, my parents (S.A. officers) received moving orders and the South Dakota high school I moved to placed my three remaining courses in the second semester, ruining my one chance of joining that prestigious band.

I carried my passion overseas after college, when I worked at The Salvation Army's International College for Officers. I attended a large London corps where I was refused admittance to their senior band. Even though my abilities matched those in the horn section, they were not yet allowing women in the upper band. I was offered a spot in the junior band and time in their weekly rehearsals. I decided to make do with the rehearsal time and, again, thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity of playing with an outstanding Salvation Army band.

When I returned from London, I began graduate school at the University of Illinois and eventually met and married my non-Salvationist husband. I kept hoping, over the years, that somehow the Army would lure my husband in (since he has a masters degree in trumpet performance and is a far more gifted musician than I am). Alas, that hasn't happened. I haven't played regularly in a Salvation Army band since we married.

I have been able to get my Salvation Army fix from our annual attendance at our ten day Bible camp (CBLI) and sporadic corps attendance over the years. I am able to sing those great Salvation Army hymns and associate with Army friends. But my passion for Army banding has lain dormant, burning like an ember that refuses to be fully snuffed out.

This past week, I have found myself in full-blown homesickness ... homesick for those moments of belonging to an Army band ... moments of hearing the tones blend in such a way that an audience can be moved to a spiritual pitch of worship unlike any other. The Chicago Staff Band has been in London performing with various other Salvation Army staff bands. I have viewed the photos of old friends who are living my dormant dream. I have watched the videos of a magnificent march up the mall towards Buckingham Palace (the very Palace I was privileged to visit with my Upper Norwood friend, Ray). It makes me want to weep.

But, I am holding back my tears and clinging to the promise of God's wisdom for my life. A few weeks ago, I spent a few days with a faithful Army friend, Lisa (who also left the Army when life intervened). As we talked, she was marvelling at all the amazing opportunities God brought my way in my twenties. She married young and had children early (and is already enjoying the grandparent phase of life), while I travelled the world and had my children late (what feels like my geriatric years).

I regaled her with my tale of tea with Ray at the Palace. I told her about the awesome privilege of an invitation to tea with theologian John R. Stott, while at Wheaton College. She listened as I explained how I landed a job transcribing C.S. Lewis' personal letters for four years. Then, I told of the rare chance I had to travel with Dr. Lyle Dorsett and his wife to Scotland for an oral history interview with C.S. Lewis' first cousin, Ruth Parker. During my time at ICO (International College for Officers) I was able to return for an individual visit with Ruth Parker and bring her a Madeira cake (her favorite). I travelled with a missions group to the Philippines. The Lord blessed me with so many fantastic, enviable opportunities.

So, while I sit here in my little farmhouse, babbling with preschoolers all day every day, Lisa declared it "no small wonder" that I am casting backward glances to the many opportunities of days gone by. My heart is frantically searching for direction, some passion to move my life in a direction of purpose ... to regain an identity apart from my mothering role. It is too easy to look back and say, "Lord, why did you carry my feet on a different path than I expected?"

At this point, I have to continue looking to God and asking Him to guide my steps, even if they lead away from passions like Army banding. Perhaps I must carve out a new purpose and goal for my life. I truly pray that He has more amazing opportunities lying just ahead of me, waiting to be seized. And I'm also praying that He won't turn me to a pillar of salt (like Lot's wife, who, leaving family behind cast back a wistful glance) for my longing for the road not taken. It can't hurt to put a further Army banding opportunity on my bucket list, can it? Only God knows where my feet are headed. All I can do is lay my passions and my willingness at His feet.

Blogging Giveaway: Father's Day Fishing Book - Angling Life

2011-06-04T12:27:00.001-07:00

If you are looking for a Father's Day gift for a father in your life who loves fishing, have I got a deal for you! Leave a comment at the end of this post, revealing who you would love to give this book to and you just might be the winner of Captain Dan Keating's book about fishing and discovering the ultimate catch.

Captain Keating is a professional angler who has been guiding charter tours for over 27 years on the waters of Lake Michigan. As the waters surrounding his boat have not always been calm, so the waters of his life have been rough a time or two as well. He provides an honest look at his life and the lessons fishing has taught him. Tales of his own world-wide fishing adventures combine with tales of his discovery of the fisher of men. Even a non-fishing enthusiast will enjoy the story and the message it carries.

Angling Life: A Fisherman Reflects on Success, Failure and the Ultimate Catch can be purchased at Amazon or from Dan Keating's own website, http://www.anglinglife.net/.

This blogging giveaway will close for entries on Saturday, June 11th.

Book Review: Drums, Girls & Dangerous Pie

2011-05-31T18:46:00.000-07:00

I happened upon this book in the library. The author name sounded familiar ... Jordan Sonnenblick (he wrote a book I reviewed three years ago called Notes from the Midnight Driver). This is the cover of the book I checked out:

Looks like a light-hearted boy-oriented funny book, no? When I opened the cover and read that it would be about a 13 year old boy whose world has been turned upside down by his younger brother and about drums and girls, well it seemed like a perfect fit to suggest to my oldest son (that is, if my oldest son were a reader... cough, cough). The age difference even matched that of my own oldest son and middle son.

Here is my favorite cover, although even this one doesn't alert you to pull out your tissue box:

This book was far deeper than I expected. It was most definitely boy-oriented. It was certainly funny. I cannot, however, say that it was light-hearted. Well, actually, that's not true. It was written in a light-hearted, whimsical way ... a way that sucks you into the story pleasantly before you realize that you have been sucker-punched by the reality of life. As Frank McCourt (the author's once high school English teacher and mentor) put it: "A brave book ... Jordan Sonnenblick carries it off with such charm and elan, you forget for a moment your heart is breaking."

So, why did I find myself weeping as I frantically turned page after page? The younger brother, with all his annoying innocent ways, is diagnosed with leukemia. This would be heart-wrenching to anyone, but then you add in my own experience with a sweet, spunky niece who battled the same disease and you can see why this book had me both lured and squirming to somehow get off the hook.

It was a wonderful book and a great resource to suggest to middle school students who might be dealing with the cancer journey of a sibling. It was interesting to learn that this book arose out of a need. The author, a middle school teacher, had a student who was quietly dealing with the intensity of life in a cancer devastated family. After searching for an appropriate book to recommend, he ended up writing one himself.

The book is clean, wholesome and full of emotional depth. I plan to recommend it to my 11 year old niece, Abby, who watched a similar journey with Amelia and may have felt the same emotions the main character expresses.

Book Review: The Help

2011-05-30T16:33:00.000-07:00

What a fabulous book! I have been interested in finding a book club, but wanted to be sure to join one that will read books I would actually be interested in. The timing couldn't have been more perfect when my blogging friend, Catherine, who lives on the north side of Indianapolis, made a general invitation to a new fiction book club. Their first book on the agenda was Kathryn Stockett's The Help.

Set in Jackson, Mississippi (a town where my sister once lived) in the early 1960s, this book presents a delightful historical view of the delineations between blacks and whites in the time of the civil rights movement. Skeeter has just returned from college to discover that her mother has dismissed her beloved maid Constantine. Constantine, like many black maids in that time, had basically raised Skeeter. Sadly, Skeeter cannot find anyone willing to tell her what happened. In addition, her mother is eager to get her married off, when all Skeeter wants to do is find some kind of work that will launch her in the direction of a writing career.

With a bit of encouragement from an editor in New York, Skeeter is encouraged to write about something she feels strongly about. She takes a job at the local paper writing a column about housekeeping (something she knows nothing of). In an effort to present reasonable answers to the questions presented, Skeeter enlists the help of a friend's maid, Aibileen. But the housekeeping column isn't her passion. She decides that her keenest interest lies in the life of the black maids who care for white families in her town.

Kathryn Stockett presents the good and the bad in this tale. There was a special bond of love between a black maid and the white children in her care. But there was also the condescension of white society women who were in their twenties, treating their elder help as shifty, unreliable grunts. How ironic that these women who trusted their help to raise and care for their children (while they often ignored them) often distrusted their help to clean the silver without stealing it.

The story Stockett weaves is full of genuine relationships, mounting tension, and charming resolution. The end feels like a victory of sorts. Certainly the three main characters will never be the same and the reader cannot help but grow as well.

I am eager to join in the discussion this coming Wednesday. It won't surprise me if the other women in attendance will agree that this was a book that was hard to put down, complete with a good story, engaging and believable characters, and intellectual value.

Most Expensive Meal Ever

2011-05-28T14:30:00.000-07:00

I'm cheap. I'll admit it. I'm not ashamed of it. I try to find food to serve my family in the most economical way possible.

I also like to try new recipes. Lately our local paper has been running a feature with five recipes called "Five in a Fix." I'm pretty sure the idea is that these are all new ideas that can be made fairly quickly. I have amassed a stack of clipped recipes to try at some point.

Last night, I finally tackled a recipe I have been eager to make. It is called "Prosciutto Wrapped Chicken." Since I'm still on my spinach kick, it won't surprise you that it contained spinach. The spinach was the easy part of the recipe. I always have that on hand. Even the cheeses weren't too unusual. I guess what blew me away were the prices of the incidental ingredients (i.e. the pine nuts and the prosciutto).

It was great fun to make and not all that difficult to whip together. Here are the chicken breasts prior to baking:

And here is the final product on my plate:

It met with great approval. Even Trevor begged to try it and ate part of my husband's second piece.

I'm not sure I'll make it again, however, because of the exorbitant price. I paid $1 for the bag of frozen spinach, $5 for the packet of pine nuts, $1 for the ricotta cheese, 25 cents for the Parmigiana cheese, and $5 for the prosciutto. I purchased all these ingredients over four weeks ago, including a $5 package of 3 chicken breasts.

Sadly, when I thawed the chicken and told hubby I planned to make it for dinner, he declared that he didn't want it for dinner that night because he was going to exercise heavily. He suggested I make it on the weekend. I didn't think I should refreeze it, so I left it in the fridge.

You will be able to tell how seldom I prepare chicken when I say that I thought there would be no problem taking the chicken out four days later to prepare. Again, hubby intervened and said that the chicken would have to be thrown out. I was incensed, but after checking the Internet, believed him and chucked the first package of meat. Thus, I paid another $5 for 3 more chicken breasts.

Here is the recipe (I knew it called for six breasts, but didn't want to pay for more and didn't think we'd be able to consume all that. As it was, the three breasts had extra meat and I ended up scrapping together a fourth serving):

Prosciutto Wrapped Chicken

1 (10 oz. package of frozen spinach, defrosted)
2 Tbsp. pine nuts
1/2 C. ricotta cheese
1/4 C. grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
2 garlic cloves, grated and chopped (I never buy garlic - so I used garlic powder instead)
Salt and pepper
Fresh ground nutmeg (mine wasn't freshly ground ;)
6 chicken breasts
6 slices (1/3 pound) prosciutto de Parma
3 Tbsp olive oil

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Wring out defrosted spinach in a clean kitchen towel. Lightly toast pine nuts in a small dry skillet over medium heat. Combine nuts with spinach in a bowl. Mix in cheeses, garlic, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Cut into and across - but not all the way through - the chicken breasts, opening them like a book. Season with salt and pepper. Fill with small mound of spinach stuffing. Fold breasts over, wrap with prosciutto to seal, being careful to cover the whole breast. Brush chicken with olive oil (I forgot this step) and roast 18-20 minutes.

It was, indeed, good. But, if I'm going to spend $22.50 for four servings of a meat entree ... I'd rather purchase it in a restaurant where someone else is slaving to make it and clean everything up afterwards!

Book Review: One Thousand Gifts

2011-05-24T18:03:00.001-07:00

I think this book came along for me at just the right ripe moment, for it opened my eyes to things I could not see. I found myself taking frantic notes ... copying down numerous quotes that rang true for me and met me in my darkness.

This book is life changing! If you are in the same spot Ann began at - with fists clenched, dreading the start of each repetitive day of challenge, crying from a pit of despair, trapped in a life that only seems to hurt - then you will marvel at her transformation and wish to be transformed as well.

Ann Voskamp opens her tale with the raw wound she has carried since the age of four, when her two year old sister wandered after a cat and was run over by a delivery truck in their farmhouse driveway. That was the beginning of her clenched fists.

But as she observes, "the first sin of all humanity, [is] the sin of ingratitude ... we aren't satisfied in God and what He gives.... If I'm ruthlessly honest, I may have said yes to God, yes to Christianity, but really I have lived the no. I have. Infected by that Eden mouthful, the retina of my soul develops macular holes of blackness."

And then she dares to ask "How do we choose to allow the holes to become seeing-through-to-God places? To more-God places? How do I give up resentment for gratitude, gnawing anger for spilling joy, self-focus for God communion?"

When a friend challenged her to make a list of one thousand things she loves, she began to see. At first it was difficult. As she puts it so eloquently, "Long I am woman who speaks but one language, the language of the fall - discontentment and self-condemnation, the critical eye and the never satisfied."

Indeed, when I myself began to attempt to make a list, I noticed a clear shift within. It was not just that I was seeing small gifts (like the call and response of birds in our trees, the joy of a boy finding a four leaf clover, the sway of the swing under the tree and the shimmering light of the sun on the top of a body of water) but more importantly, that I was SEEKING them out constantly.

Other people have encouraged me to see the blessings in my life, but so often they spoke to me from full, mountain-top lives. It is hard to hear someone when they are on the mountain and you are in the valley. Ann Voskamp's words did not attempt to minimize what I felt (a tactic my husband often employs, pointing out how we have it so much better than many others) because she had already acknowledged how painful it is to be in that clenched position, barely able to breathe, the weight of the world pressing down heavily.

I love her explanations because they illustrate exactly where I'm at. She writes: "I know how monstrous inhumane I can be. Raging at the children for minor wrongdoings while I'm the one defiling the moment with sinful anger.... I forget everything [learned] and these six kids lean hard into me all day to teach and raise and lead and I fail hard and there are real souls that are at stake and how long do I really have to figure out how to live full of grace, full of joy - before these six, beautiful children fly the coop and my mothering days fold up quiet? How do you open the eyes to see how to take the daily, domestic, workday vortex and invert it into the dome of an everyday cathedral?"

Voskamp argues that thanksgiving (eucharisto) builds trust in God. She urges the reader to live a James 1:2 life ["When troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy."]. She asserts that gratitude for blessings causes us to become a blessing.

I strongly recommend this book for the first nine chapters. It was only in the final two chapters that I found myself talking back to the book and writing questions. Voskamp begins the tenth chapter with the assertion, "I can bless, pour out, be broken and given in our home and the larger world and never fear that there won't be enough to give." The chapter becomes a long list of ways that she is blessing the larger world and I no longer found myself identifying with her quite so strongly. She is no longer a peer, but someone lofty ... above. Yet, it is clear that she obviously has numerous OTHERS pouring into her.

I found myself asking, "What of the woman, like me, who is daily giving out, without community to pour back in?" I am literally starving for community, companionship. Thus, even the listing of God's graces, while it does help me breathe, step away from the frustrations that build with boys who create messes faster than I can clean and who drain me dry, even still I am skeptical that the listing alone, the recognition of these tiny blessings sprinkled through my day could actually be enough to fill me enough to give where I am called to serve. She has listed numerous names of women and family members who pour into her. Family steps in so she can take a week to find rest and wonder in Paris. What if you have no such support? What if you feel alone at the table of communion?

Her final chapter becomes almost too mystical for me - taking one small principle and making it the entire key to close communion with God. Her sexual imagery of "making love to God" trips me up. I'm not sure I believe that such a level of fullness and unity with God is possible until we reach heaven.

Then my mind wanders to other issues. What of those whose troubles land them in institutions, like her own mother? What of those who daily struggle with living their spirituality to that level. I don't believe we can fault those who have not discovered this one key of eucharisto. Each of us do the best we can at whatever point of the journey we are on. That is enough, I believe.

Listing one thousand ways that God steps into our lives with blessing cannot hurt us. It can only bring a greater vision for ways that God is reaching down and into the mess of our lives. It has allowed me to finally hear the gentlest whisper from my Maker. And if it has caused my eyes to shift more in His direction, then this book has been valuable indeed!

Even if you don't take time to read Ann Voskamp's book, you might take a moment to watch this beautiful promotional video for her book.

The Trouble with Boys

2011-05-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

So many of the difficulties that we face with Trevor and Sean were not issues when it was just Bryce. I guess there is less trouble when the male child population in your home is one. When you shift from "boy" to "boys," somehow the trouble quotient escalates.

Here are some recent troubles:

Boys are destructive. Bryce wasn't destructive. My two little guys together are like a tornado of destruction. It may not be equal to the force that just ripped through the southern states, but it is still DESTRUCTION.

One weekend, not long ago, I managed to snag some moments alone and visited a garage sale. I was thrilled to locate four adorable Christmas ornaments in a box marked "50 cents each." I give each boy a special ornament which reflects something particular to them for that year. This coming year, Bryce has decided to go out for football. I purchased two nice football themed ornaments.

Then I spied a fabulous fishing ornament. It was one of those moments where you see an object and think, "Oh, I've got to buy that ... it is just too cool to pass up!" It is a sign saying "The Perfect Catch - Pull for Photo" and below the sign hangs the head of a fish connected to a spring connected to the tail of the fish.

I showed the boys the clever ornament. I emphasized, "YOU ARE NOT TO PULL ON IT OR IT WILL BREAK !"

I'm sure you can guess. The following morning I woke to hear the sound of my husband in the shower. There were the two boys pulling the spring beyond all restoration. They have ruined my clever ornament. I am really hoping that I can find a comparable spring and fix the thing, but we shall see. Little boy heads are on platters!

Boys fight. When I just had Bryce, I didn't have to deal with this element of the male persuasion. He had no one else to fight with. If a friend came over and a fight broke out, it was usually verbal and minor.

Enter the plural - BOYS. These two boys are starting to come to blows far more often than I can take. It arises out of the most ridiculous moments. Fists are flung. Often Sleepy Bear is wielded as a weapon. They cannot both sit on the couch without kicking each other in a constant battle to sit with their legs fully stretched out.

One day, I left them playing a game of "Don't Break the Ice" and went to the bathroom. When I returned, the little mallets meant for poking the ice were being used to beat each other. Groan.

Thankfully, there are equal amounts of true companionship between them. They may duke it out, but they usually let the fights go and move on fairly quickly (pretty sure this is a blessing of boys).

Finally, boys are highly impressionable. They recently watched a television show where an addicted gamer refuses to leave his gaming console and rigs up a devise to handle restroom duties. Bryce has been using protein shakes after his workouts and the container is so large that it doesn't fit in the kitchen trash can. Instead, I placed it next to the trash. Next thing I know, Trevor walks off with the large container. I am expecting him to think up some form of art. Alas, I was wrong. He turned on the PlayStation, popped in a game and began playing, with the container near his feet. A few moments later, he declared, "I'm in obsessive gaming mode." I watched in horror as he peed into the container and went back to gaming.

We also have had some bathroom issues when it comes to baths. Usually, if they have to go during a bath, I hand them a small bathtub cup and then transfer what they produce to the toilet. However, now that Trevor takes a shower, I have told him that it is perfectly fine to urinate in the shower, since it will just go down the drain.

Sadly, I failed to specify that when you urinate in the shower, you should do so near the drain, not at the other end of the bathtub, say against the opposite wall. Hmph! My irritation was so great that I declared Trevor would clean the mess up. But somehow he was called away to some other thing (probably a disaster that Dad discovered) and I failed to remember to have him clean it.

So, the next night, I send Sean down to the bathtub, telling him I'll be there in a moment to begin running the water. When I enter the bathroom, I realize that son number two (hmm - not a good choice of words for this discussion) has inspired son number three. Instead of just peeing at the back of the shower, Sean decided to see how high against the back wall he could aim the flow. Let me tell you, it was pretty high and a gigantic mess because he also nailed the bag of tub letters they use to create words on the wall.

Boys! If one thinks of something, the other is sure to carry it just a bit further. Not that my boys really seem to need any inspiration. They come up with crazy antics just fine on their own. That's just life with boys for you!

Book Review: The Gift of Fear

2011-05-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago, I attended a free seminar on protecting children from child abuse. In the novel I began writing for the 2009 Nanowrimo, I have a character that is a victim of child abuse. Thus, I thought it would be beneficial to glean some insights into the statistics and the common characteristics of this situation.

The speaker of the day mentioned this book, The Gift of Fear: Survival Signals That Protect Us from Violence, by Gavin deBecker. It turned out to be a fascinating read. Plus, when a Bible study member requested prayer for her daughter who was being harassed by an ex-boyfriend, I was able to suggest the book for wisdom on how to handle the persistence of this individual.

Gavin deBecker is the nation's leading expert on predicting violent behavior. Responding to a childhood rife with violence, deBecker became an astute student of the clues that lead up to moments of violence and criminal behavior. He argues that "true fear is a gift." Our intuition is meant to alert us with signals of impending danger. Listening to our intuition is key.

Far too often, we tend to refute our own intuitive feelings about something. When something seems unusual, instead of looking at it more closely, we discount our concerns as being ridiculous.

Because violence and assaults are scary and intense, oftentimes people will distance themselves from the violence another family has endured. They do this to make themselves feel immune to the dangers with an attitude of "this would never happen to my family because we ..."

As Gavin deBecker put it:

"Even having learned these facts of life and death, some readers will still compartmentalize the hazards in order to exclude themselves 'Sure there's a lot of violence, but that's in the inner city'; 'Yeah, a lot of women are battered, but I'm not in a relationship now'; 'Violence is a problem for younger people, or older people'; 'You're only at risk if you're out late at night'; 'People bring it on themselves,' and on and on."

Plus, we often respond to threats (such as the threat of a harassing ex-boyfriend) in ways that further engage the violent individual. The author clearly outlines tactics used to bait you into their devious schemes and escalating intentions. He outlines how to make accurate predictions about another person's behavior.

In addition to the wealth of stories he presents as he outlines the clues for survival, Gavin deBecker also provides resources for those observing signals of danger. He provides a list of questions to present to your school to assess their diligence in providing safety for students.

This was a captivating and informative book. I would recommend it for individuals who have been through an assault and wish to review their moments of denial of intuition and for those who are involved in manipulative relationships (especially those who remain entrenched in the dialogue when they should cease all interaction). But, really, anyone interested in observing human nature and how we respond to intuition and danger would gain something from this book.

Book Review: The Saturday Big Tent Wedding Party

2011-05-16T17:49:00.000-07:00

Once again, I've allowed too much time to get between my reading and the writing of a review. This was a fantastic installment in the Number One Ladies' Detective Agency series. In fact, when I finished listening to it (was amazed to find our library had it already), I couldn't go on to another audio book because I was still so caught up in the story.

In this episode, we watch Mma Ramotswe take on the case of a suspicious individual wanting to get to the bottom of the killings of two of his cattle. In this perplexing case, the client himself may be a suspect. It is obvious that a timid child knows more than he is saying, but can Mma Ramotswe get the boy to speak honestly and openly?

In the meantime, back at the office, Mma Makutsi is preparing to wed Phuti Rhudiphuti and is searching for the perfect pair of shoes. She is also eager to confront Charlie, the apprentice who has often sparred with Mma Makutsi (calling her a "warthog") and who is rumored to have gotten a girl pregnant.

The only thing that felt out of place in this novel was the inclusion of Mma Makutsi's arch-enemy, Violet Sopotho. She is running for a government seat and the whole thing seems unlikely and unnecessary to the progression of the story. The topic is introduced at the beginning and then left cold until the very end, when it is summarily tidied up.

Still, I fully enjoyed this book and cannot recommend the audio version of this series enough. Lisette Lecat does a fantastic job of bringing the various characters to life and carrying the tone of the novels, with their rich descriptions of Botswana and the rambling considerations of "Botswana morality." Once again, I will eagerly await another installment to see more of the lives of these characters unfold.

My Three Greatest Gifts in Life

2011-05-10T07:03:00.001-07:00

Fantastic Drumming at Butler Recital

2011-05-07T17:23:00.000-07:00

This past week, Bryce, my oldest son, turned 15. Like everyone, I'm saying "where has the time gone?"

When I posted a photo of the three boys as my Facebook profile, someone commented, "Since when is Bryce practically a grown-up?" In a blink.

We headed to Butler University this morning for Bryce's final recital after a year of study with his graduate student instructor. He had to be there early, so I walked around the building with the little boys, trying to wear them out so they would sit quietly during the recital.

I think I was expecting 7 to 10 individuals to perform. When we returned to the room and took our seats, I glanced at a program that listed TWENTY FIVE names of participants. I will admit, I thought there was no way in the world Trevor and Sean would manage to sit quietly. They surprised me and did tremendously well. I think their favorite participant, apart from their brother, was a sweet little four year old who played the violin with his father.

But the loudest, longest and (biased opinion) most fantastic was big brother, Bryce: