My nephews were assigned to read this classic Dickens story as an honors English assignment over the summer. Seeing as I should have read this in high school (once again, I think I had the worst English classes possible), I told them I'd read it with them. School started for them this week, so I don't think I'm going to be spoiling anything by reviewing it now. At least, they should be done with it by now (Michael? Jacob?).
Surprisingly, I knew very little about this very famous book. I knew it had a great opening line and an oft quoted last sentence. But the stuff in between? Nothing. I didn't know the two cities were London and Paris. I didn't know it was about the french revolution and class warfare and sacrifice. All of that intellectual blindness came in handy as I was able to read and react to this novel without its fame interfering with my opinion.
If I take the dazzling name "Dickens" away and judge it on its own merits, I'd say I liked this book very much but with reservations. Characters who do interesting, noble or even bad things aren't great characters if you don't know or care why they do them. None of the players in Tale felt like real people to me. Charles Darnay, while good and true, was too good to be true. Same with Dr. Mannette. His unjust incarceration only felt unjust because Dickens told me it was so. Not knowing anything of his nature, until very close to the end, made it hard to cheer for his recovery when he was so dramatically "recalled to life." In fact, most of the character's motivations, including Sydney Carton's ultimate act of love, were given too late. I don't know if the slow character development (if any) was part of some great Dickensian strategy, but his flat characters did little to embellish the peaks and valleys of his very thoughtful story.
Characterization flaws aside, I can't deny the timelessness of A Tale of Two Cities. While very obviously about the french revolution, including colorful references to tri-colored sashes (I had a Les Mis song or two in my head), red caps and blood soaked guillotines, I felt Dickens knew then that the themes of retribution, injustice and class distinction were applicable for any group, family, or country at war with itself. Even more than the stories of my own country's more familiar (to me) Revolutionary War, or even its Civil War, Tale invoked images of Town Hall discontent over health care and the angry chatter found in comment sections online. Hate, in any form, is never flattering.
Dickens seemed to agree with this, and I felt it was fair of him to portray both sides, the aristocracy and peasants, as part of the problem. The book's tone at the beginning makes it clear that Dickens sympathizes with the powerless and poor. He exposes and ridicules the flaws of both France's and England's legal systems and both's inability to adequately administer appropriate justice. However, he doesn't stay in the working class's corner for long, as he's soon disapproving of their blood lust and anarchy.
Amazingly, anger, fear, and injustice are not really what this book is about. Instead, each negative is counterbalanced with love, friendship and selflessness. It was, in fact, the best of times AND the worst of times. Pretty much like today. Or, any period of time, if you think about it. Because light always pushes away darkness.
Dickens ends his famous tale by focusing on the better part - the positive. In Carton's own dying words, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known."
We'd been seriously dating for about 2 months when Jay's 22nd birthday arrived. He'd already wooed me with several impressive gifts, including a plane ticket back to Provo from his hometown after visiting during the annual family cattle drive (which is only a six hour drive. But, he didn't want me driving the treacherous roads all by myself. If he only knew then about my inner truck driver, he could have saved himself some cool cash. Still...it was pretty protective and sweet, just what a starry-eyed 20 year-old wants), but this was my gift-giving debut as his girlfriend.
I knew just what to get him.
He unwrapped his present with no idea what was hidden beneath the fancy paper. I hadn't given him any hints and he hadn't given me any ideas, so it was truly the blind giving to the blind. He reacted well considering.
It was a belt.
Hindsight and experience has made me well aware that this was (and is) a strange gift. But, at the time, I was desperate for one thing about my almost perfect boyfriend to change.
The braided belt had to go.
To bring him up to what I considered acceptible college-aged attire, I purchased a really expensive, thick, brown Lucky Brand belt with a heavy silver buckle. This was not your average belt. I remember going to store after store in Univeristy Mall to find the perfect one. Not too skater. Not anything cowboy. No embelishments. The buckle had to be big but not ostentatious. This was the perfect belt.
In a classic case of not being able to see the forest for the trees, I forgot some of the essential rule to gift giving (according to Divine Caroline):
Understanding the purpose gifts in general is essential to picking the Good Gift. With a few exceptions, gift giving has evolved as a form of symbolic communication. It actually says something about the relationship between the giver and recipient and is a reflection on the emotional bond they share.
Here are three rules to getting the Good Gift:
Tailor the gift to the receiver’s interests—Getting something in their sphere of interest demonstrates that you know them in a personal way that gives you access to their likes and dislikes
Make sure it’s something they’ll actually use—Getting something useful means that the person will come back to it often, giving them a chance to re-experience the warm feeling associated with the giver.
Look for something they would never get for themselves —I don’t mean that you should buy Aunt Millie the latest The Streets album. Rather, try to find something that they would consider a “luxury.” It doesn’t even have to be expensive, just something they normally wouldn’t treat themselves to. This shows knowledge of their personality, which reaffirms your connection.
In theory, I followed the rules. He is a firm believer in never going without a belt, so I included a belt as an area of interest. It was definitely something I was hoping he'd get a lot of use out of (and soon!) and he never would have gotten himself a nice belt. That was, and is, a fact.
But.
I got my brand new boyfriend a belt! For his birthday! As my first gift to him ever!
Lame!
I've made up for it over the years. If he's into camping, then I get him camping stuff. If he's into running, I get him running stuff. If he's into playing his trombone, I get him trombone stuff. I've mastered matching my gifts to his current mood. This takes attention. But not intuition.
Some people seem to have a knack for artful gift giving. They are able to give those perfect gifts without directions and without relying solely on the obvious and the easy for ideas. In other words, they manage to give belt-like gifts without ever giving actual belts. Or, in even more words, they find that perfect something someone wants or needs without the recipient even knowing they wanted or needed it.
One such person presented me with one such gift on my birthday. Before I single out this gift, let me preface by saying I had a delightful birthday. My family's gifts included a perfect day on the lake, a laptop computer I'm enjoying right now, and a lovely dinner with loved ones. I received several usable and appreciated gift cards to bookstores from my sister, Jen, and Vaughn and Patty. My in-laws and parents bestowed cash which helped me get a better laptop, my relief society president gave me a delightful Mary Ellen Edmunds book, my sister-in-law, Bekki, sent me tootsie rolls in all its flavors and my friend, Sue, took me out for a yummy Asian food lunch. Everything was perfect. I felt like a star.
One thing I was not expecting came via my friend, Michelle. She and her husband seemed really excited for me to open their gift, which made me nervous. You see, I am not normally paticularly moved by gifts. This can be a good thing, because I rarely feel bad or disappointed by the gifts I do get. But, it can also be a bad thing because I have disappointed a few gift givers in the past with my less-than-hysterical reactions. So, I hoped that my reaction would match their obvious enthusiasm.
My jaw dropped as I peeled away the tissue paper covering a first printing, first edition copy of Mrs. Mike. I felt flabbergasted because I was actually....flabbergasted. What in the world? How did this relatively new friend of mine know how beloved this book was to me? Was I somene who wanted first edition copies of books? Apparently, I am. Because I loved it!
I love its hard binding and yellow pages. I love the uneven edges and decorative chapter headings. But, mostly, I just really love this story. And Michelle figured that out.
Nothing extraordinarily special surrounds one's 34th birthday. I suppose it's twice the number of 17, which has some awesome songs dedicated to the age (cue music by Winger, ABBA, the Beatles, Stevie Nicks), but, alas, no one has written a song about being 34 (100 years by Five For Fighting choose to highlight the much more aesthetically pleasing "33", which, I can't say I blame him).
So, to honor 34, which I've decided is going to be the best year yet, here are 34 things you may or may not know about me.
1. I don't like applying lotion. I don't mind once it is on, but I find the smeary semi-liquid mess in my hand annoying. Usually, I forgo it altogether until my skin starts to resemble an alligator's then I succumb to its tortures and deal with the goop.
2. If someone asks me what my favorite song is, I almost always immediately think of "When Doves Cry" by Prince or "Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics. I don't think either song is actually my favorite, although I do like both of them a lot. Seems 1983-84 were pretty important as far as musical exposure goes.
3. I prefer full disclosure. I like to know who is all going to be at whatever I am invited to before I accept or decline. It's not like I insist or anything, but I appreciate when I know because I have been burned a time or two before (new years eve party with one other couple and their parents? Pretty much the start of me needing full disclosure).
4. I feel sad when land is ignored. Let me explain. There is a small patch of lawn at my parent's house that is separated by a walkway from the rest of the lawn. No one ever sits on it or plays on it or does anything there because it is too small and, like I said, separated by that walkway. It seems lonely to me. When I lived at home, I used to go and sit on it, just so that it got used.
5. Likewise, there is something about an abandoned road that almost brings me to tears. Seeing old highways with weeds and grass burying it alongside an interstate makes me wistful. It's not like I want to drive on it because I believe we should all be able to drive 85 mph while traveling, but I wish someone would.
6. I love all four seasons, but early fall is my favorite.
7. I hope that I'm always content with my pretty engagement ring. I understand the feelings behind the "upgrades" but I think there is something meaningful about wearing the original piece of jewelry that started it all.
8. Not to be morbid or anything, but I think I may die young-ish. I've had some dreams. That means, I'll probably live to be 100.
9. I don't like to finish products. Things like shampoo, moisturizer, sunscreen, foundation, soda, etc. I will almost always buy a new container before it's all the way gone and then start using the new stuff. Totally wasteful, but there is something anxiety producing about squeezing out those last few ounces.
10. On the other hand, that same feeling of anxiety arises when the garbage is approaching full capacity. It goes beyond just annoyance that the garbage is almost full. Like...it's stressful. I know that soon, I'm going to have to start mushing things down (gross) or things will topple out and only smaller items will fit. I guess it's similar in that whatever I need is running out.
11. I know so much more about NASCAR than I ever thought I would. So much more.
12. I'm a huge fan of the Tootsie Roll.
13. I almost like tomatoes. I've started ordering them on hamburgers and sandwiches (or, more accurately, stopped asking for the covert fruit to be removed) and can finish those now without any gagging. I've also recently begun to enjoy chunky salsa and pico. But, I still can't eat tomatoes as a solo food.
14. I think if you can afford to travel, you should. Go see the world and let the world see you. Honestly, I think of it more as a responsibility in acquiring knowledge and empathy than a luxury.
15. I'm still hoping to be a pedal-playing organist. I know all I need is practice.
16. My dream bathtub is one that has an overflow feature. You know, the water comes right to the edge and beyond. No more exposed knees.
17. Having a nice smile is something I hope I will no longer take for granted. After years of watching my front tooth darken, I finally got to the point where I didn't feel comfortable smiling for pictures with my teeth showing or, even worse, I could tell people I talked to were distracted by my dark tooth and were embarrassed for me. It's on the mend with some internal tooth bleaching I finally had.
18. I hope there is dancing in the eternities.
19. This is taking a lot longer than I want it to so the last fourteen are going to be random and probably not so deep into my soul.
20. I'm not a s'mores fan. But I'll eat them. Just for the chocolate.
21. I used to love to fly but now, if I can drive there, I think I almost prefer to. It's stressful, from the cost, to check-in, to taking off shoes, to sitting next to a stranger. I feel like cattle.
22. I wish I were more adventurous with style, but I've realized that I like clothes from the GAP (or Old Navy), like my hair on the blonder side and about shoulder length and shoes that serve a variety of outfits.
23. Marriage is more work than I ever thought it would be (even up to only a few years ago. I never understood those who said marriage was work because it never really was for me). Now that we've had some real stresses (illness, moves, jobs, Henry), I get it. But it's still so worth it.
24. I don't look good in blue eyeshadow.
25. I really love to sing. The less frequent the opportunities become, the stronger the desire seems to grow.
26. I've never had a manicure. Ever. Am I missing out on something?
27. I have a hard time eating meat off a bone (psychologically). Or meat with some kind of skin. Or really fatty meat. Or mixed meat. I'd be a vegetarian if I didn't like eating it all the other possible ways.
28. When I see pictures of myself, I sometimes think my eyes look crossed.
29. I'm really hoping this is the year when I can be consistently better. At flossing. At exercising. At eating the way I should. At visiting teaching. At wifing and mothering. 34 and even keel would be kind of nice.
30. If I ever do go to a NASCAR race, I'm paying for the ride-a-long. Going 200 mph with a professional driver seems like a good time to me.
31. I think Seth is like his dad. I think Sam is like me. I'm really not sure where Henry came from. If I hadn't birthed him in dramatic fashion, I'd wonder. Blue eyes, short, likes to put off until tomorrow what he can do today. Oh, wait.....
32. I'm a big time words of affirmation girl. To me, it seems like the easiest of all the love language (in case you don't know, the 5 are 1)words of affirmation (tell me you like me!), 2) physical touch,3) quality time, 4) acts of service and 5) gifts). Reading all the facebook birthday messages has pretty much made my day. Comments on this post wouldn't hurt either;)
33. Likewise, I will love you with words. I try to make sure I cover all the other stuff too, because I know we're all different and all feel loved differently, but it's how I show you I like you. I tell you. No mistakin'.
34. I don't like crunchy peanut butter.
There you go. 34 more things about me. I'm taking a big breath right now because I can. I love being alive. I love being me. I love having you all to love. Thanks for making my existence so sweet.
I think the only way to motivate myself to write these book reviews that have piled up since May is to first write about the ones I liked best.
Cutting For Stone is definitely at the top of my summer "books I've read" list. Epic in nature like Steinbeck and Stegner, Verghese creates a truly memorable saga about forgiveness, family and death. While not the merriest subjects, Verghese treats them with such depth and variety that at the end of the hefty 560 pages, you have been treated to an uplifting story - the kind you can sigh about when finished.
Sister Mary Joseph Praise, while traveling with a fellow nun by ship on their way from India to an African mission where they are told they are needed most, becomes the ship's nurse after most of the passengers, including Dr. Thomas Stone, become ill with typhoid. While she successfully revives Stone, her companion does not survive, making Sister Praise's future uncertain. Both Stone and Praise leave an impression on each other as Sister Praise's trajectory eventually lands her next to Stone as his assistant at Missing Hospital in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. It is the setting of Missing Hospital (really Mission Hospital, but it soon becomes its commonly mispronounced name) that allows the book's many wonderful characters to develop.
Foremost of all these characters is Marion, one of the twin brothers born from a secret love affair between Thomas Stone and Mary Joseph Praise. Praise dies during childbirth and Stone, tormented by his loss and confusion, disappears. Marion, and his brother, Shiva, are raised by two fellow physicians at Missing - Hema, an Indian OB/GYN and Ghosh, an internist turned surgeon after Stone flees (he's literally "cutting for Stone", which is just one, and probably the most obvious, of the title's many meanings) raise the boys as their own until one brother betrays the other and Marion leaves Africa for New York to be trained in America's very different world of medicine.
The story can be complicated, with heavy doses of medical jargon that make it seem less accessible than it actually is, but plowing through all of the surgical details, even the sometimes uncomfortable female anatomical references (there is a lot of OB/GYN talk so if the words vulva, labia or vagina make you squirm, this might not be the book for you) is worth it. Like all great epics, the middle section can be heavy and slow-going, but the development is necessary to make the end as great as it is.
I'm a little ill thinking about the books I haven't reviewed. There is no way that I can adequately review any of them with so much competition in my brain, but, I suppose I'll try. That or give up reviewing books I've read, which I'm not ready to do.
I believe the bottle neck came from my inability to write a satisfying review of Rosamunde Pilcher's The Shell Seekers. Not that it was a difficult book to write about, but that my own thoughts annoyed and troubled me so much that I decided I'd rather not share them.
But, that's the sanitized Lucy(which I'm kicking to the curb), here's what the real me thought of The Shell Seekers
It wasn't good enough to be taken seriously (heart beat elevated. O.K. Perhaps kicking wasn't exactly true. More like tip-toe-ing carefully to the curb).
From its supermarket cover (have you seen it? It felt embarrassing to have such a romantically embossed book in my hands) to its one-dimensional characters, the entire book reminded me of a heavyweight beach read.
So....what should get a "nice summer read" review instead trips me up for weeks. Why do I feel so bad about being critical of this book? Mostly, I think it's because many friends and readers I know love this book. But, I also think my stupor of thought is a result of a former self once being able to love this book. My tastes have changed.
It's frustrating, because I think the themes Pilcher wrote about are serious enough to do well. Inheritance, greed, sentimentality, playing favorites with children, staying in a loveless marriage, putting a relationship that never fully developed on a pedestal because it escaped the inevitable boredom, irritation, and complacency that all relationships eventually go through. These are things you don't usually find underneath a flowery cover.
Overall, The Shell Seekers didn't feel wholly honest to me. The situations did have a semblance of reality. I imagine most of us would have some serious introspection if we discovered a piece of art we owned was suddenly very valuable, especially any art we owned that was created by a beloved relative. However, the characters, written as people who you should like (Penelope, Olivia, Richard), or who you should not like (Nancy, Neil, horrible grandmother and husband whose names I can't remember) didn't have motives - or at least any that I understood. It appears to me that Pilcher confused having the coveted flawed character with having bad characters. Just because a character makes bad choices shouldn't make them bad. I wanted to know why Nancy and Neil cared more about money than their grandfather's painting. Was Neil a gambler and in debt and needed cash? Did Nancy think her marriage would fall apart if she didn't continue to be the lavish bride that her grandmother turned her into?
Why in the world would Penelope stay in her never-should-have-happened-marriage when the author has done her best to describe her as a free-spirit, raised by an athiest father and French mother who both could have cared less if she married the father of her baby or took a lover while her husband (who she hoped would either die or leave her for someone else) was at war, who placed a nontraditional value to things (wasn't that the point of the the symbolic painting? Most people would care to know how much it was worth. But not Penelope, who would rather garden and feed people large meals)? Why were Neil and Nancy so shallow and greedy? Because they were genetically like their father and grandmother (who were also inexplicably bad)? Why did Olivia get such a free pass from her mother? Why did we have to invest so much time with her in Greece with her old and linen-clad lover (who I kept imaging as Kris Kristofferson. Odd)? Was I supposed to really care about her gardener's epilepsy?
So many more questions that have no satisfying answers because, once again, I don't think this is meant as a serious book. In which case, I'm being snobby and critical. Or it was meant as a serious book and I'm being picky and callous. Or snobby and critical. Take your pick.
Oh my...this is such a bad book review. For the confused, I'll tidy things up. I enjoyed the book. I'm disappointed it wasn't more.
And that worries me.
Because that means I'm a book snob
Oh....curse you, Shell Seekers! Why did I ever open your abysmal cover with flowers and shiny typeface?
Why? Because there's a well known saying about books and their covers. And I fell for it.
Ahhh....the season went so fast! I know they are having a fall show and all, but the finale? Already? Seems like we just got started.
I enjoyed tonight's finale. I LOVED having it at a large theater like the Kodak. Especially because it seems the venue made it impossible for the cameras to jerk me around like they like to do. I feel like I saw most of the dances and I liked what I saw.
First of all, I think Adam Shankman is my favorite guest judge. He brings such a humble joy to the judges table that every other ego maniac lacks. I enjoy his unbridled enthusiasm. I am a fan of his gushing. And I think his criticisms are fair.
Second of all, I think he stole a lot of Mary's thunder. Mary has always been able to be the emotional shouter and after Adam's squealing and standing, Mary just seemed to be copying. Even her patented hot tamale scream seemed staged, somehow.
Lastly (at least in the judges comments), when did Nigel turn into such a creepy lecher? I'm not joking, the big toothed Brit made some kind of leering comment about Jeanine or Kayla after every dance. Gross. Please stop.
Now onto the dancing. I can't believe how underwhelming Wade's routine was. I missed his kooky music and costumes. Obviously, choreographers like to try new things, but the routine seemed so mainstream, and so acted, that the dancing itself seemed almost secondary. It wasn't my favorite, and Wade is almost always my favorite.
Sonja's routine with Evan and Jeanine put the smile back on my face, however. Sonja definitely has a trademark style, and the same moves seem to show up in routine after routine, but I guess I like them enough to not tire of them. I agree with the judges that making up a dance about a girl who beats up on a wimpier guy was perfect for Evan. I'm annoyed that he's in the finale. He's turned into kind of a one trick pony, after seeming so versatile in Vegas, that I was happy for him to fit into a dance so well. Jeanine, of course, rocked it. Everything she touches seems to turn into gold.
I think, overall, this season had too much Tyce. When Cat announced Brandon and Kayla would have him as their choreographer, I audibly sighed thinking it would be a wasted opportunity for their considerable talent. Thankfully, he upped the ante a little bit and had them do something more than jazz hands and pulling faces. Still, I didn't like the music, didn't understand the costumes, and the story was never fully explained to me. But the dancing was great.
Now, Evan might not have a nasty bone in his body, but I thought he danced the boys routine almost as well as Brandon. He has moves! I don't know if you remember Benji from season 2, but he couldn't pull off a tough guy either, and audiences loved him. I think Evan has some of that same charm. I loved the choreography and wished the judges hadn't made such a big deal about Evan's sweetness. Brandon seemed a bit uncomfortable with all the Evan criticism too. I wonder if they've bonded this week?
As far as the girls go, I know Jeanine had a super show, but dancing side by side with Kayla, I saw a difference in fluidity of motion and interpretation. Hands down, I preferred Kayla to Jeanine. Kayla's motion, and her stillness, looked superior to me. The piece was interesting, and Mia is a genius (yada, yada, yada - can't have a show where that fact isn't stated at least once) but the unsnapping of so many skirts was risky and both Kayla and Jeanine fumbled at different times. I'm sure the dancers stumble in almost every dance, but when it's as obvious as missing a snap (because while we might all not know what a perfect arabesque looks like, we do know what unsnapping something on beat is supposed to look like), the entire dance seems less polished.
Evan and Kayla. Those are two dancers that are not supposed to dance together. They managed to maniuplate the heigh difference with a barefoot waltz a couple of weeks ago, but, I'm sorry, they did not pull off this jive in cowboy boots. I can't believe none of the judges mentioned how awkward she looked doing foot retractions in her ankle disguising clunky boots. I keep trying to think of what ballroom dance would have been better for this pair, but I can't think of one, so, I suppose jive was it. So...cowboy boots I got. It's too bad for both of them that this was their last dance.
No 12 episode dance show should have three pasodobles, but thank goodness there was finally a good one! The music (intense), the costumes (they looked like vampires!) and the dancing all added up to eye glue. I could not take my eyes off of them. There weren't even any fancy tricks to make me ooh and aah. In fact, after watching the practice interviews, it seems they left some of the lifts out, but both Brandon and Jeanine are good enough performers that I totally bought this bull-fighting-or-whatever-it's-supposed-to-mean death dance.
As far as solos go, I did get goosepimply when Jeanette danced. I wish I liked her better. I've tried to pinpoint what it is about her that keeps me from being a believer, and all I can say is....it's her. Her neck, her big hair, her punch-you-in-the-arm personality. I don't know. Something. But, she had a great night and she just might win.
But, then again...so could Evan. Like I said earlier, he's this year's Benji (I don't know why they kept saying they had never had a dancer like him before. Has no one ever seen this show before???? Hello!)
Obviously, Brandon could. I've never been so confused about a dancer. He's all muscles and power and brutish man when he dances, and yet each interview he gives makes me think he just might have a few stuffed animals on his bed.
Me? I'm rooting for Kayla. She lacks in personality what a winner should probably have, but she's just everything I enjoy watching. She's my favorite dancer. Not my favorite television personality, but there is no dancer I would prefer to see in any dance, any style, any partner (except when she's paired with Evan), than her. Go Kayla!
Well...I'm water logged and bloated now and the boss wants me to get back to work. It feels so incredibly unnecessary to write about this show. I mean, I'm already admitting to some major time wasting by watching the three hours every week (although, to be fair, with DVR it's really only about 1 hour and 45 minutes. Sorry to you without DVRs.) Then, I can't imagine I, or any posterity, will care about these thoughts about a TV show in the future. Who? What? Why? Exactly.
Still...I've enjoyed our gatherings at the water cooler. It almost....almost feels like I'm actually standing next to one with some of my favorite co-time wasters:)
I've got no business blogging right now. I'm tired. I'm a leeetle bit grumpy (mainly due to the headache from fasting that hopefully will go away now that I'm fed). But, mostly, I've got no business blogging because I taught Elder Bednar's CES Fireside message today in Relief Society about Things As They Really Are, and the dangers of all things cyber related. (By the way, it's a good talk. Read it.)
Truthfully, his message struck a nerve. I'll make no bones about it, I spend too much time on the computer. No defenses. I know I do.
But, I also think that some really great things have happened because of blogging (I'm not so sure about Facebook. I'm still pondering the merits of that). Elder Bednar is very frank that using computers, or any technology for that fact, is not inherently bad. In fact, a lot of good things are accomplished by its rapid development. While I haven't taught any surgeons how to perform a delicate surgery with my virtual software, nor have I learned any aeronautical skills with flight simulators, I have shared my testimony. I have made real relationships. I have grown closer to certain friends and family members with this medium of sharing. Not to mention, there are some really, really good blogs out there. Don't believe me? Read her, and you'll get a daily dose of home grown inspiration.
Those are the good things. But, like I said earlier, I haven't solely used it for good. I have wasted countless hours surfing blogs of people that don't matter to me. Not that they don't matter. That would be mean. They just don't matter to me. I don't know them well enough to care about what they are making for dinner or how they found the time with four young children to reupholster their furniture. There isn't any validation, besides being a voyeur, for that time spent.
(Hours later)
Man. I just cannot finish a blog post anymore. And, you know what? I'm tired of it! I know that there are better things to do with my time. I know that my body NEEDS me to have better hobbies. But, it stinks to have something I enjoy singled out as a time waster. Where are the talks that warn about the hours and hours and hours that quilting takes away from better endeavors. Or candle making? Or, please, could someone high up condemn running? Just so that I can feel less guilty for hating it so?
Wow. That kind of came out of nowhere. I mean, you wouldn't suspect that I just gave a lesson about getting off the computer. And I meant everything I said. I loved his message. But, now I feel bad about wanting to blog, and that's not what he meant. I think I've had this guilt spinning around in the back of my mind for sometime. Guilt and boredom. My blog has just become so....sanitized...lately.
I've become sanitized. I'm afraid of saying anything interesting. Or maybe I just don't have anything interesting to say. I'm not going to knock blogging because, truthfully, one of the most annoying things ever is to read a blog knocking blogging. Seriously, talk about a conflict of interests. I've read them before and been just as irritated as you probably are now. So...now what?
I know the answer is moderation. That makes sense. It usually does.
Struggling to finish....no wonder I have so many posts stuck in draft mode. Publishing anyways.
I'm doing something new and joined a group of women who buy books, read them and makes notes in the books as you read, and then mail it to someone. There are five of us in the group, so in five months, I'll read five books (only one of my choosing), with each book more and more filled with notes until I get my own book back with everyone else's thoughts. It was very odd underlining and writing in the margins, as I haven't done that to any book besides my scriptures and old college textbooks but....I liked it! I'm going to post my reviews as I read them, even though there is someone in my group who won't get this book for four more months. That's an alert for you, Amy S!
Like Flowers For Algernon and The Bell Jar, I found Still Alice to not only be an interesting novel about mental illness, but felt that its scope pushed it beyond entertainment, even beyond its own story and into the realm of important fiction. Lisa Genova’s Still Alice is not my first exposure to Alzheimer’s disease. I noticed with sadness the withdrawal of President Ronald Regan's visibility. I’ve read and watched Nicholas Spark's The Notebook (which probably doesn't count). And while I’ve thankfully been spared watching any members of my immediate family suffer, I have watched a beloved former neighbor and friend forget and withdraw from our shared memories. It’s horrible. And this book doesn’t pretend otherwise, for the person afflicted or for the witnesses to the affliction.
Alzheimer’s, which deceptively rhymes with “old timers”, is the most familiar face of dementia but, like probably most, I didn’t really understand the beginning, the progression or the variety of this cruel disease. Genova, with her very heavyweight Harvard Ph.D. in neuroscience, is a reassuring author as I felt like she had the capability and authority to write about early onset Alzheimer’s in such a personal and informative way.
It wasn’t until about halfway through the book that I realized that Still Alice was not a first person narrative. It felt like it because I knew what Alice was thinking, how she was feeling and wasn’t given that view into any of the other characters. But, suddenly, the “she’s” and "hers" appeared heavy and often and I realized that I wasn't inside Alice's head but, instead, was hovering around Alice with the benefit of someone telling me exactly what her dark-curly haired fifty year-old self was experiencing. As I’m not an author, I don’t know what goes into the decision about who the narrator will be. So many books these days seem to pass the narrative baton from character to character, each one getting to express their own voice with their personal “I”s and “me’s, instantly creating intimacy. While I think it would have been interesting to glimpse into Lydia’s motivation, Anna’s drive and John’s inner conflict, I was glad that our time was spent with Alice. There is only one brief departure from Alice to John and I’m not sure why. Except for that one irregularity, I appreciated the continuity of Alice’s experience.
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a character change so much throughout a book but still seem grounded to the original character. While the author provided straightforward visual samples of Alice’s decline with her less and less detailed (and eventually wrong) answers to a series of five recurring questions throughout the book, I believe the evolution of the relationship between Alice and her youngest daughter, Lydia, was the better barometer. Even as she lost more of her intellect and memories with each subsequent page turn, Alice didn’t stop being Alice. Ahhh….there’s the title. She’s Still Alice. In her impassioned speech at an Alzheimer’s conference, Alice asks, “When will I no longer be me? Is the part of my brain that’s responsible for my unique ‘me-ness’ vulnerable to this disease? Or is my identity something that transcends neurons, proteins, and defective molecules of DNA? Is my soul and spirit immune to the ravages of Alzheimer’s? I believe it is.”
While certainly less obvious, Alice is there at the end. Not in her office at Harvard University. Not at the lectern, confidently guiding students with her professional expertise, and not as an opinionated mother and wife voicing her unfulfilled expectations, but there. No one is tiptoeing through daisies, and everyone is forced to sacrifice, but this novel showed how one family coped and adjusted to loving someone with Alzheimer’s. More importantly, it showed with candor and tenderness how one brilliant woman/wife/mother/daughter/sister/professor/friend/researcher/mentor/author/reader/person fought an unwinnable fight.
Sam is a snuggle bug. He loves to cuddle and after a late night with cousins, when fatigue and irrationality had him fighting bed, I promised him some morning snuggles.
He held me to my promise this morning, and after pancakes, I met him on the couch for our scheduled nuzzling. Included in the repertoire was the usual back scratch, nose rubbing and me kissing his forehead and cheeks.
The older my boys get, the less I kiss them on the lips. There is no exact age where I cut it off, after all, I'm playing this all by ear, but six for Sam might be the right time.
As I cradled him in my lap, he started puckering up and I gave him a few light pecks on his little lips. Then, he grabbed my cheeks and kissed me pretty hard. I chuckled and then he did it again.
"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked.
"Kissing you like Hans Solo kisses Princess Leia," he innocently replied.
We then proceeded to have an age appropriate discussion about why people kiss on the mouth and I found I had no good reasons to give except that when you liked someone, you wanted to. But, I emphasized that kisses like that should be special and rare and saved for when you are in love - mom and dad kind of love and not mom and son love.
It was no big deal and we sat and snuggled for awhile longer, but I've been thinking about it these last few hours.
I hate to be the one to limit touch with my boys and I know there will be a time in the not so distant future when their displays of affection will all but disappear, but, obviously, Sam needed a little instruction. Still, he's only six. I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill.
What say you? How affectionate are you with your children? Is there a difference between the touch between your girls and boys (having only boys, I'm just wondering)? Does kissing on the lips make you uncomfortable?
How do you repay someone who magnanimously agrees to sit with your children, in particular, your rambunctious three year-old during sacrament meeting as you play the organ and your husband conducts the meeting?
If you happen to be the parents of Henry, then you offer to pay the medical bills incurred due to your child poking their eye with a colored pencil, necessitating a trip to the emergency room and a diagnosis of a scratched cornea.
Over 2800 miles traveled. Over 57 hours in the car. Over 450 pictures overall.
Don't worry, I'm not going to blog about all of it. I'm not even going to blog about half of it. I've selected 27 pictures that capture the essence of our journey so that means I'm blogging about 17% of our trip. But, that's skewed because I didn't take as many pictures as I normally would have. That's right. I held back. Because I had this new fancy camera to lug around everywhere and sometimes...sometimes, I chose not to. So...I'll call it about 13% and let it rest.
The camera was still in its box in the drive up so didn't get a picture of my sister, Maureen, who just happened to be home before leaving for her THIRD musical tour. Also, I didn't get a picture of my sweet sister-in-law, Stephanie, who I stopped to say "hi" to in Boise.
After two long days in the car, we arrived at my sister's comfortable home. The boys immediately disappeared to play with cousins and my week of relaxation began.
Ansel is something of a Lego genius and showed Seth the power of the block. Seriously, he made a movie...on his own...by taking pictures of his Lego creation and putting them in a PowerPoint presentation and adding captions.
One of the reasons Jen's home is so comfortable is because she is an excellent organizer and housekeeper. It didn't hurt that their recent mega remodel was complete and everything was fancy and new, but it's so pretty that the urge to sweep and wipe down is overwhelming. I even had my hand on this broom a few times - directing the dirt to the fabulous kick plate on her central vac system. Can you feel the coveting coming out of my fingertips as I write?
Fourth of July and we had her neighbor's pool all to ourselves. I haven't had that much fun swimming in years. Loved the privacy, loved the heat, loved the independence of my boys. Fun day. This is out of order because we went to the baseball game on Friday night and the fourth was on Saturday. Oh well. The baseball game itself was pretty boring because the teams weren't evenly matched so the opposing team could not get the home team out. I started to cheer for quick outs on both sides, which upset the boys a bit, but throw in dollar hot dog night, dollar ice cream night and fireworks after the game and you have plenty to ensure a good time.
The best fans of the night
I have never bought fireworks before but Jen and Christopher and some of their friends have a tradition for setting off the kind that are illegal everywhere I've ever lived in their cul-de-sac. My boys had a blast running around with sparklers and while I can't say I got as excited as all the men who were lighting them off, it was a fun night.
Not bad for a little home-done show....
Me and my sister and friend, Jen. It's really tragic that we don't live closer to each other.
Good times were had by all thanks to my brother, Jon, and sister-in-law, Tara. Their littlest, Natalie, was sick all weekend, which was a bummer, but it was beyond great to spend time with two. They definitely make the list of my favorite people to hang out with.
My greatest wish (lately) is for Henry to have a yard. For a week, it came true for a week and my prediction that he would become an easy child was proved right. No matter where anyone else was, he wanted to be outside most of the day and I was blessed and chagrined to witness his best self when he had the space and freedom to explore and wander. Sigh. You may notice me coveting again.
On to my old stomping grounds where I reconnected with old friends. It was a bittersweet 24 hours for me as I missed them and the city itself every bit as ever but felt the space of time more than ever too, particularly with Seth, who didn't connect with his former BFFs (they are girls, and I'm sure that makes a difference). My heart aches a little thinking we are no longer a part of this life.
I spent a week in my hometown at my childhood home. This is my favorite view in the world. Standing on the porch in front of my parent's house, looking at my favorite mountain.
One of two of our hikes up Mt. Helena.
Sam was initiated into the Staggering Ox club when he attempted to eat his first Clubfoot sandwich. For Family Home Evening, my dad taught my boys about our family history and had them figure out my four generations.
Then we had a great time playing, "Are you pleased or displeased?" It involved lots of hopping on one foot and the not-so-pretty moments of me doing push-ups and army craws around the room like a snake, but it also brought out the famous "ballerina" dance from Grandpa, which my boys loved....almost as much as I did when I was their age.
My gorgeous mother.
We sailed.
The boys played on their own private island.
We visited my Aunt Jennie on her ranch, where I have fabulous memories of being a cowgirl for weeks during the summer.
We (and by we, I mean they) swam in Bear Lake in their clothes because I was too tired to get their swimsuits out.
We went to a family reunion where my father was able to visit with his 100 year old uncle, Paul.
We stopped at the grave of a beloved grandmother, who I still miss 20 years later.
In Utah, I met up with good friends, Becky and Melanie.
Took the boys through the Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house (and I think I'm probably the only one who didn't find it at all spiritual. Noisy, hot, crowded and disconcerting....yes). But, I'm still glad we went. I just wish we could have gone when there weren't about a gazillion other little kids on the same tour.
Last night in town spent at Cafe Rio with Amy M. and Hannah. What's not to like about a night like that?
We are home and there is no rest for the weary. Summer 2009 is turning out to be non-stop action, which is just fine with me. But, I'd still like to find a few minutes now and then to blog!
I missed writing about last week's show. Mom, I promise I'm not obsessed about So You Think You Can Dance. I know these emotional reviews worry you, but it's not like I live and die for each week's show. I'm handling the fact that I can't watch Thursday's night show, because you guys unplugged your DVR in case of thunderstorms, with maturity and perspective. I am a duck and missing the show is like water rolling off my back. No big deal. I'm cool.
BUT....since I can't write about what happens tomorrow, I might as well write about tonight. I mean, every one here is asleep so I'm not monopolizing the computer and since I can't download any of the pictures I've taken so far, there is no point in blogging about my trip. Oh...I have had little essays rolling through my head about Costco and marriage (they aren't related) but it's late and I'm on the road again tomorrow and this will have to do.
First things first, Cat looked lovely. She epitomized how modesty and classy go hand in hand. Loved her dress. Loved her hair. Love her. She adds so much to the show.
I was so relieved when they announced that each couple would perform two dances. Finally - less talky talk and more dancing! The last two weeks have been brutal listening to the judges endlessly yap and the pre-dance interview's unnecessary intimacy.
I booed out loud when disco by Dorian was announced as the first number. Oddly enough, I own three discs of Disco Fever (bought from an infomercial during one of my weaker moments) and I enjoy them. I had a picture of John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever in my locker during most of high school. I've even thrown a disco murder/mystery party in my short lifetime. However, disco has been a major dud so far for me on this show. Even Brandon and Jeanette's "fastest disco ever" left me bored. I braced myself for disappointment.
Melissa was lacking but did you see Ade???? He was totally Jackson 5 out there! Maybe it's his very tame Afro, or shiny pants, but I would have been just fine if he could have hip bounced across the stage all night. That man knows how to groove. It was nice to see Ade carry the dance for once, even though none of the judges gave him proper credit. I like Melissa too but this was Ade's night.
Their second dance, the waltz, was schmaltzy. Oh, I know the choreographer said it was more open and less structured by leaving out a lot of the traditional holds, but, at times, it didn't even feel like a waltz. No matter, though, because I think they'll be safe this week even though they weren't handed any favors with their two "randomly" chosen dances (which, after last week, I hope is a myth that has been dispelled. No way the dances are pulled out of a hat).
Now, onto Kupono and Kayla. I am glad that I still have room to appreciate Mia because the woman, for all her ego and false humility, can make magic on that stage. For that minute and a half, Kayla was an addict and Kupono was whatever was bad for her. Absolutely. That is what I love about this art form. It is a living and breathing and dynamic statement about....whatever. Wow. I agree with Cat that it will be one of the more memorable pieces this season.
I didn't love their broadway routine, though. Personally, I find that choreographer (can't remember her name and don't have the energy to look it up) really intimidating. They might have too, because the whole dance felt 1-2-3-4ish to me. They danced it, but they didn't look like they were having any fun which Kayla, and her perfection in performance, can usually at least fake, and Kupono is supposedly able to jump into any character given him. I think Broadway has become the new Kiss of Death and if they didn't have that incredible first number, I think they would have been in the bottom three. But, fortunately, or unfortunately depending on if you're a Kupono fan or not, I don't think they will be. If they are, I still don't think the judges would get ride of Kupono because they must have plans for him on the tour or something. They need him to make it to Top 10. I can think of no other reason why they keep ignoring the masses who keep putting him in the bottom three.
Jason and Kaitlin. I'm not even going to bother writing about them because they are boring. They might be beautiful dancers but they've had five weeks to develop some kind of personality or spark between the two of them and it's missing every week and in every dance. I'm guessing she drives him crazy. She kind of has that neurotic quality about her, I think. I used to feel bad for him, but he's had plenty of time to step it up and hasn't bothered. I think both of them will leave tomorrow night.
As far as Brandon and Jeanette go....amazing! I didn't know I loved the Argentinian Tango. I know they highlighted it on the first results show, but the professional dancers had nothing on these two. I loved it. I was really glad they danced to traditional music. I think it helps. I've been distracted the last few ballroom routines when Latin numbers are paired with The Pussycat Dolls or some other northern flavor. I still have no idea why leg flicks are necessary when it comes to couple dancing in cafes, and have a hard time believing that this is performed by any kind of everyday Argentinian, but I clapped when their dance was done. And then Nigel copied me. I don't know how he does it.
The golden couple ended the night with what could only be greatness dancing a Wade Robson routine. It wasn't my favorite of his dances (although I loved the stair dancing. Something about Roisin Murphy and stairs must go together in his crazy brilliant mind) and Jeanette was a little off compared to Brandon (or maybe her shiny 80s spandex just threw me off) but they are like gold in Ft. Knox. Safe, safe, safe.
If one is to believe (and I do) that the dancers they want to go home get the least amount of help (like a "hard hitting" NappyTab number, or Dorian's disco (usually) or bad costumes) then it seems obvious that they must want Philip and Jeanine off the show. They have NEVER gotten contemporary. Or Jazz. They keep talking about how Philip can't dance anything but Hip Hop but I think he'd be pretty good in a Mia routine, or Wade, or even Mandy as long as she left her Greatest 90s pop ballads CD at home. No, instead they get to do a Russian Folk Dance. As soon as the camera cut away from their interview and I saw them in costume, I crinkled my nose. Not that there is anything wrong with Russian Folk Dancing, but you might as well put them in Pioneer dress, bring out the fiddle or just have an audience sing along, and ask them to skip and arm twirl. Their dance skills, thankfully, were more complicated than that, but just barely. Other than those leg squat jumps, which always impress me, there wasn't much that you or I and apparently Phillip couldn't master.
I loved how Nigel passed off any responsibility for the out-of-place routine. I'm sure he chose the number so that he could say (as he usually does at least once per show), "Where else can you see disco, hip hop, the chains of addiction and Russian folk dancing on one stage?!" The man loves to give himself props. He could barely get over how some genius managed to bring classical ballet to the masses last week. Fess up!
It was bad, but not horrible. They did as much as they could. Jeanine, as usually, surprised me. No, I take that back. She doesn't surprise me anymore. She's incredible. How and why was I so wrong about her?
How could the show make it up to them after handing them the least exciting dance ever attempted on the show? I know....a jive! The jive is hard. Nigel loves to lecture about getting low and foot retractions. The was the nail in their coffin. As unfair as it was to have two doozies of dances, Jeanine was so good that she pretty much guaranteed that both of them will stay. She was so good that I didn't care that no one in the 40s wore tutus. She was so good that I forgot about Philip and his stiff shoulders (which is so, so odd that such a non-jointed dancer could be so stiff). I also appreciated that Bette Midler's look alike (who I will always uncomfortably remember dancing the Cha Cha with poor Pasha when his partner got sick) choosing a Bette Midler song for the dance. It brought everything....full circle...for me.
Lastly, poor Randi and Evan just didn't have their game on. I don't know why Randi always makes such a fuss in rehearsals about how uncomfortable and weird she feels acting sexy or in love or...anything other than bouncy and blonde. Because she pulls it off every week. She is the consummate performer. Every dance, I am amazed at how committed she is to the dance, even when she has to convince the rest of us that she has the hots for Evan (those are some fine acting skills). So, even though I loved the music and loved the moves, I didn't love the Samba. The leopard skins they were wearing may have something to do with that too.
Their hip hop routine was hmmmmph, meh and yawn. If it wasn't announced that it was about a couple finding out about a pregnancy, I never would have known. To me, it looked like a dance about about to propose followed by lots of dancing and jumping about in sync, because that is what most newly engaged people do (sadly, I don't have video of Jay's and my moves but they were pretty street. We were living in Provo, after all). He did touch her stomach once, so...I guess that was supposed to clear things up.
I laughed when Nigel commented about how Tabitha and Napoleon didn't try to urbanize them and let them be who they were. Um....I don't think that was much of a stretch, Nigel. Basically, they had themselves to work with. I could see Napoleon saying, "Hey, Evan, I'm from the burbs too and I'm here to tell you that you can still hit it hard in an argyle sweater. I promise." And, just once, could wardrobe not put the girl in high tops? I think Randi and Evan will be in the bottom three for the first time. But, I don't think the judges will send either of them home. At least I hope not.
Enjoy watching the results show tomorrow night. I don't care that much about missing it except for the group number. I have this fear that it will be a Wade number, especially since they got him back in town, but, even so, I realize it's just a t.v. show.
...and I'm pretty sure when I'll be back again. At least within a day or two.
I've decided to embark on another mammoth road trip a la last summer. I'll be gone almost as long but won't cover as much ground as I'm not planning on any detours to Canada or Mt. Rainier this year. Just a week with my sister's family in Washington state (and a few days with my brother's family who is coming over to say, "hi.") and a week in Montana visiting the land I love and the responsible parties who bestowed upon me the privilege of growing up there.
Add a few days here and there in Utah (school shopping, Temple open house, visiting friends and family) and a few days of driving through the lone and dreary world (but also spectacularly pretty at times) and I'm booked for three weeks!
It may appear that I am crazy to not only do this all by myself (Jay is opting out....again. Claims he has a job and stuff) but to it via minivan with three children ages nine and younger. But I have a secret. All three of my boys are excellent travelers and I love to drive. Oh, sure, I get bored at times, but factor in cost, flexibility, and freedom and driving beats flying almost every time. At least with kids.
I'm all ready to leave but my new camera hasn't arrived yet. I didn't think it was going to be here in time for my trip, so I had mentally decided to leave early this morning. When I checked my email, however, and clicked on the tracking package link, I discovered that the FedEx truck would be dropping off this very necessary trip accessory sometime today. So, I wait. And hope that it comes soon. Because I've got my traveling mojo.
Of course, I hope to blog a little along the way, but if not....
HAVE A FABULOUS JULY! (sorry about all the parenthetical comments. I can't help myself!)
Farewell bouncy castle....
Farewell bungy trampoline jumping....
Farewell chairlift riding....
Farewell alpine slide racing....(Sam's hard to beat)
Farewell summit of hike skinny dipping (only Henry)
Farewell sandbox (probably not for a few more months. Darn it).
Farewell rodeo Sam....
Farewell barrel racing cowgirl...
Farewell bull rider....
Farewell rodeo watchers...
Farewell grandma's peas...
Farewell lake buddies....
Farewell skiing Sam....
Farewell skiing Seth.... (that's me in the water behind him. But neither he nor Sam need me to steady them anymore)
Farewell tubers....
Farewell boat drivers....
See you next year!
