The Fingernail

My new house is fourteen years old.  In spite of the fact that the original owner built this home with the greatest attention to detail and using superior products, fourteen year-old things wear out.  Take our refrigerator, for instance.

I am ignorant of most brand names when it comes to home building but I have heard of Sub-Zero, so when I noticed our home came equipped with one, I appropriately oohed and aahed.  Rightfully so.  It is a nice fridge.  A really, really nice fridge.

I know this because several weeks ago, I noticed our food wasn't as cold as it should have been.  I sat on it until Jay started gagging on his milk and declaring ourselves in danger of food poisoning.  With Salmonella on my brain, I called for help.

A friendly, professional repairman came out and informed me that our freon was leaking out.  Because a remodel is in our future, albeit not in any immediate one, I considered simply replacing the current refrigerator with a newer model instead of spending money to fix the old one.  My consideration ended approximately four seconds later when he estimated the cost of replacement at about eight thousand dollars.

Fix it we did and the repairman was so quick and easy going that he talked me in to fixing the waterline so that the ice maker and water dispenser were operational (we have been getting our water and ice the old fashioned way.  Using ice trays and water from the tap.  It's like we're pioneers!).

Unfortunately, he didn't have the parts on hand to do the water line repair so another service call was necessary.  Instead of the same easy going and friendly repairman showing up, a much older and crankier version showed up wearing the now familiar white and red striped shirt.  I noticed two things right away:  he was a talker and he had the longest fingernail I've ever seen on a man.

I don't know about you, but when somebody comes to do work around the house, and this goes for any house I've ever lived in, I don't like to be around.  I find I am most comfortable if I am close enough to hear them announce when they have finished or answer any question they might have about my complaint, but out of line of sight.   Friendly, easy-going repairman of two weeks ago had no problem with that.  He worked on fixing the refrigerator for a couple of hours while I stayed in my room on the computer.  We both had our privacy as it should be.  Not so today.  As soon as I would retreat, he'd come find me to tell me about the next thing he was going to do.  Eventually, I gave in to his needy ways (I don't know why he needed me to say, "Is that right?" "Huh" or "O.K", but he did) and folded laundry in the living room.  It was a very uncomfortable two hours because, in my opinion, laundry is kind of a private affair.

Because I had that undesirable line of sight the entire time, I couldn't help but look at the fingernail.   The nails on his left hand appeared to all be a normal length, but on his right, both his thumb and his pinky extended well beyond what they should.  Think fake acrylic length but in a putrid shade of yellow. Reasoning that there must be a good reason for someone to choose to have a horrid looking nail on their working hand (disease, extreme phobia of nail clippers, hormone imbalance that causes it to grow at supersonic speeds), I kept from making judgement.   Or at least I tried.  And like all situations where I find myself face to face with someone's less-than-perfect body part, I kept eye-contact the entire time and pretended I was happily unaware of his claw..er...nail.

Two hours of faking interest in the plumbing of my refrigerator without any noticeable interest in his fingernail later, however, and I learned that my pretend good manners were in vain.  As he cleaned up his mess and attempted to open my garbage can, I showed him the foot pedal that opened the lid.

He replied, "No need for that.  That's why I keep this fingernail long.  You never know when you'll need it in my line of work," and proceeded to jimmy open the lid with his long, yellow hook.

All I could say was, "Is that right?"

A Snippet

I think I'm going to try and write everyday this month.  Even as I type that, I am squinting my eyes and scrunching up my nose wondering if it is even possible.  I mean...what about the days when I'm in the mood to read?  Or, what about when Jay sticks a Netflix into the DVD player and gets me hooked on a documentary about the danger of the US debt (true story)?  Or, what about when I feel the dangerous need to get something off my chest?  I have been really good lately at just holding it all in, because I don't enjoy vagueness.  I think if you're going to say something's wrong, then you owe details.  When I read other people's vague references to pain and misery, I always imagine the worst (you know, like they discovered their husband has a secret drinking habit or just found out their home is in foreclosure) when really, they probably just burned the chicken.  But, for some I-can't-understand-because-it's-not-in-my-DNA-to-keep-the-details-to-myself reason, they just refer to it as the "disaster" that is weighing them down.

So, in order to avoid revealing all, which I am wont to do, I have decided to describe a snippet of my day.  A snapshot, if you will.  It may involve some background information (oh, who am I kidding?  Of course it will include background information!) but, for the most part, I'm going to try to excise one part of my day and write about it.  Whee!

For today's glimpse, you need to follow me into a cute shop on Main street that sells all the things I like:  scented candles, bubble bath, make-up and so forth.  I rarely shop in this cute shop because A) it is over-priced.  B) has no parking and C) I have realized  that candles, bubble bath and make-up aren't things I frequently shop for.  Nevertheless, today, I DID need some make-up due to my declaration of never again buying anything Mary Kay.  Now, for you Mary Kay fans and possible loyalists out there, calm down.  I have not disparaged the brand.  Their make-up and pink containers have nothing wrong with them.  Truth be told, I even like their products.  What I don't like and what I'm determined to never, ever, ever submit myself to again is being manhandled by the give-me-the-names-of-your-friends-who-deserve-to-feel-beautiful salesperson.

Here is where I am fighting off the urge to disclose some background info.  But...no.  No sir.  I'm not gonna.

No.

Well....if you must know, I went to a really obnoxious party the other day and...

No.

Back to the cute shop.  My friend, Lori, who listened while I whined about not being able to buy the mineral make-up and tinted moisturizer that I wanted and were the only reason I even went to the obnoxious party I refuse to mention,  sang the praises of Bare Minerals make-up and this shop happens to sell it.  Because I am actually completely out of make-up and my summer tan is quickly fading, I subjected myself to talking with a salesperson about the product (but I don't consider this a breach in my new code-of-make-up-buying-ethics because at no time did I ever feel like the lady was going to start telling me that if I worked where she worked,  I could earn a free car).   During her questioning me about whether my tan is temporary or, like Lindsay Lohan, a constant chemical feature, I noticed a sign hanging above the sales register congratulating someone on having a boy.  Taking a risk that this very pregnant woman just might be the one having the boy, I asked if she was the happy future-boy's mother.  She confessed that she was.

Also on this sign were the names of the two parents.  I can't for the life of me remember hers (I am horrible at remembering names) but I do remember her husband's name.  It was Nephi.

I'd raise one eyebrow if I could.

I would never have said anything, but my friend, Michelle, who loves all people, places and things Mormon asked, "Is your husband Mormon?"

She replied that his family members are but he isn't.  Isn't that interesting?  Not that this nice salesperson, who got me to buy the entire starter kit instead of merely the foundation I came into the store to buy (I am weak!) was married to a used-to-be Mormon but that the conversation even took place?  And it wouldn't have had her husband's parents not named him Nephi and we, being Mormons, hadn't walked into the shop where she happened to be working and knew exactly what having that kind of name meant.    I don't know if that should be a warning or an encouragement to all you baby namers out there.

Speaking of naming babies with a Mormon name, did you know that Brandon Flowers from The Killers has a solo album coming out?  I was Wikipedia-ing him the other day after I downloaded one of his new singles on itunes and he also has a son named Ammon.

As far as Book of Mormon names goes, Ammon, I'd consider.  But I just don't think I could name a kid Nephi.   Or Moroni.   But I could name a child of mine Sam.  Hey...it's in there.

So, I don't know how well this writing about a snippet is going to work out.   Wasn't I writing about make-up?  Oh well.  I never claimed to have tidy snippets.

All Caught Up

Sometimes I forget that I actually like reviewing books. I almost always have a lot to say the day or day after I finish a book and after that, the details, emotion and motivation to write about it begin to fade. As you can tell, several books had faded to my own little read-awaiting-review purgatory and I considered not reviewing them at all but just moving on to what I'm reading now.

But, then, tonight, I thought, I'll just write a little bit about each one, catch myself up and then stop feeling guilty for every new book I begin. Isn't that silly? Guilt for not writing a review, as if it matters at all if I do or do not? I can't explain it, but after four years of writing them, they are as much a part of the experience as reading. And it only feels like a chore when I let them build up like that. Hopefully, now that I'm completely caught up, I'll get back into the reviewing for fun camp.

Please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes. I didn't do much editing.

Book Review - The Day The Falls Stood Still

An interesting story about Niagra Falls. I think you can often times know quite a bit about the author of a story from reading something they've written. After reading this, I'd venture a guess that the author knows how to sew, lives near Niagra Falls and is somewhat of an environmentalist. Her characters and plot felt secondary to the famous falls and sometimes her working in facts and bits or real history felt forced.

I also felt a bit duped after reading the book jacket and realizing that the description only covered the first half of the story. After reinvesting myself for the unknown second half, I found that it was the kind of love story I enjoy.

Book Review - Goodbye, I Love You

I do not love poetry.  I do not understand poetry.  In almost all cases, I will avoid reading poetry.  So, when my mother-in-law lent me an autobiography of an LDS female poet, Carol Pearson, whose marriage to a gay-man ended when he left her and the church to pursue a gay lifestyle but who she eventually cared for as he succumbed to AIDS, it took me a few months to work up the courage to read this book.  While it does contain some of her poetry, which includes several things I've read before, it is mostly an easy to follow chronology of her life and how certain things came to be.

It moved me.  Pearson, who obviously has a way with words, does a remarkable job evoking sympathy for a man who appears on the surface to be an undeserving of the emotion.  Charismatic and full of life, Gerald Pearson is the man Carol falls in love with.  When he tells her before they are married that he has had intimate relationships with men, she naively doesn't understand that he is gay.  All I can say is that it was during the sixties and that lifestyle was obviously much less talked about and understood than it is today.  She reasoned that he had sinned but had repented and by being married, all would be well.

A whole lot of heartbreak later, all is not well, but Carol finds within herself an ability to love Gerald as she believes Heavenly Father loves Gerald and while she never really accepts his lifestyle or approves of it, she always continues to love him.

Written in the eighties, when the AIDS epidemic was at its most terrifying moment, Goodbye, I Love You continues to be relevant as the struggle between the Gay and Lesbian movement and various religions of the world is under more and more scrutiny.

Book Review - Beatrice and Virgil

I hesitate to write much about this book because I read it fully ignorant of any details or reviews and liked it best that way. If that's not something that interests you, read on.

Yann Martel, author of Beatrice and Virgil as well as the bestselling Life of Pi, once again uses animals to tell a story. There are many stories within stories, however, and Beatrice, a donkey, and Virgil, a howler monkey, are not characters in the book but rather characters in a play that the protagonist, Henry,  receives in the mail from a local taxidermist. It matters that Henry, a Canadian and an author who has written a wildly successful novel using animals as characters (yes.  I think it's autobiographical on purpose.  It feels very Jonathan Safran Foer-esque), is living in Germany with his wife to escape the frustration and apathy he felt following the rejection of his next book, a flip book that combines both a novel and essay about the Holocaust.  When they ask him, "But, what is it about?" he feels misunderstood and a little bit persecuted.

Martel forces the same question to his readers in this very quirky book. What is it about? Certainly, it is about the Holocaust. But it's more than that. It's the problem with writing about the Holocaust, the motivation to write about the Holocaust and the responsibility to write about the Holocaust. Who should? Who does? Who gets to?

When a writer writes about a writer writing about writing, it can seem very circular, but I think Martel does an effective job to get his many points across. There are times I wished he had been more subtle. Several of his explanations and story-lines felt like being force-fed and I, for one, would have appreciated  being given a little more responsibility as a reader to figure things out. But I liked it because it does what good fiction does: it tells the truth by making something up.

Book Review - Classic #17 - The Awakening

Sometimes I feel frustrated when talking to other people about certain books and they don't like the book because a character behaved badly or they didn't like the way the story played out. While I think that many times a book deserves to be disliked for those very reason, some books, and I'm including The Awakening in that category, aren't meant to be liked. Rather, they are meant to expose part of the human condition.

The Awakening tells the story of a young married mother, Edna Pontellier, living a privileged life in Victorian Age New Orleans. She has all the advantages life has to offer: beauty, wealth, hired help, healthy children, devoted husband and an entire summer to vacation at the beach but exists in an emotional fog, neither happy nor unhappy.

When she falls in love with Robert, a man who is not her husband, she "awakens" for the first time. She goes on to act consciously for the first time in her life, choosing to abandon her husband who she does not love, let go of her children who she only seems to remember if she is actually physically looking at them (then she thinks she'll explode from love for them), and eventually commits the ugly act of adultery.

I get that these are not good choices to make but what resonated with me was the way Chopin had her own them. Edna decided that she would rather have a real life than merely a this-is-what-is-expected-of-me one, something all women (and men) must eventually choose between. That does not mean that a real life cannot also be good. This character could just as easily "awakened" and chosen to devote herself to her family in a way that she never really had before, develop a relationship with her husband and run away from the temptations that will cause pain and humiliation to her family. In this case, she doesn't, but I appreciate the author highlighting the need to live a genuine life - fully awake.

Book Review - The Highly Sensitive Child - Helping Our Children Thrive When The World Overwhelms Them

I have a sensitive child who is easily overwhelmed. I have realized that I do not parent him in a way that helps him thrive.

This book did not help me because it told me that for him to thrive, I can never appear to be upset in front of him, never raise my voice, never make him eat anything he doesn't want to, never force him to be in a situation he finds himself uncomfortable in...basically let him live in a totally unrealistic world.

While I found the suggestions to be over-the-top (the author didn't force her son to learn how to drive until he was twenty-six!), I was made aware of how a sensitive child sees the world. Much more so than less sensitive children, HSC (oh, yes. It's an acronym) are cautious and oftentimes timid because they are overwhelmed by stimuli and awareness of possible consequences. Just last weekend, I saw firsthand how my sensitive child was unable to participate in an activity until his younger brother went first, showing it was safe. And it wasn't just that he was unsure or scared for himself. The entire ordeal of watching his brother stressed him out because he was much more aware of all the possible ways it could go wrong. It was really quite something to watch.

I consider myself sensitive, so I do empathize with my son and hope to be a better parent to him. I just wish the suggestions from the author were things I felt I could actually implement. Instead, I feel more discouraged that I am exactly the kind of parent who is going to ruin my child.

Book Review - The Price We Paid - The Extraordinary Story of the Willie and Martin Handcart Pioneers

I've been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints my entire life. I've grown up listening and singing pioneer songs, celebrating the 24th of July and being taught that had it not been for the courage and endurance of those early saints to get to Zion, the church would not be what it is today.

In spite of that lifetime of exposure, I can honestly say that I did not know the story of the Willie and Martin Handcart companies. I knew that they got caught in an early snow storm and I knew that a lot of people died, but I didn't get it. I didn't get the why and, most importantly, the who.


Andrew Olson explains upfront that it is a misconception most people have that the Willie and Martin Handcart companies are one in the same. They are not. Their tragedies were the result of the same early storm and much of the same mistakes in decision making, but they were in two separate places along the trail and had two different experiences and rescues. For that reason, he tells the stories individually, the Willie being the first half of the book and the Martin finishing the second half.

They are similar in that most of the members of the companies had similar backgrounds. Poor European converts and returning missionaries all eager to reach Utah and convinced that their faith will see them there. It was hard for me, emotionally, to finish the Willie story and begin again with the Martin. Instead of interweaving the timeline, he starts and finishes each one to completion. So many names and wretched history after another made it difficult for individual names and experiences to stick. Still, some did. I read this in preparation for a Youth Pioneer Trek and was so much better prepared from doing so. It opened my eyes to why their stories have needed to stay relevant for the past hundred and fifty years. It opened my eyes to be able to understand the current day parallels that motivate wards and stakes to put on these elaborate and painstaking Treks.

There are few books I would classify as life-changing, but, for me, this is one of them. I am humbled and grateful to better know my own history.

Book Review - Shadow Tag

My favorite thing about this book is its title. It's also got a pretty cover, but I've learned from past mistakes not to be fooled by those. I really, really enjoy good, interesting, thoughtful titles. It's just about perfect when that really, really good, interesting and thoughtful title accompanies a good, interesting and thoughtful book but I don't think that is the case with this book. Well written, yes, but also melancholy, dysfunctional and unsatisfying.

A very unhappily married woman realizes her husband is reading her private journal, so starts a pseudo journal to manipulate him into leaving their marriage. She does this to drive him crazy, I suppose because she feels like he, a tortured artist who makes his living painting portraits of her, drives her crazy. Because she is an alcoholic, he manipulates her with drink. It's really messed up.

I didn't enjoy or sympathize with either main character, but did find the occasional reference to the family dogs behavior interesting.

Your life will not be worse off if you skip this book.

Book Review - Mudbound

An excellent book. Grittier than The Help but similar in scope, Mudbound describes the way a Southern woman's eyes are opened after her husband moves the family  from their comfortable and sheltered existence to the post World War II Mississippi Delta. There, the rules concerning race, marriage, and honoring your father and mother are challenged when soldiers, one, the son of a racist white farmer (who might possibly be the most unsympathetic character ever written), and the other, the black son of a sharecropper, return from the war and are no longer willing to abide by them.

I can't remember the last time I read a novel that used foreshadowing as skillfully as Hillary Jordan uses it in her book. The narration and chronology both jump around from chapter to chapter, so readers are aware of outcomes and feelings before understanding any whys or hows, but it all works as a powerful engine, driving the conflict to its inevitable crux.

Powerful, but not pleasant.

Book Review - Alias Grace

Margaret Atwood seems to be a genre of her own. I know serious readers seem to love her but I'd never read any of her work before Alias Grace, the story of a woman serving a sentence for a murder committed when she was sixteen years old.

To be fair, I read this really quickly in order to be able to contribute at bookclub and I just haven't retained a lot of the details. I think I liked it but there was something about the structure of the book that made it slightly unlovable. Interesting but not page turning.

It did, however, introduce me to a gifted writer and I'm interested in reading her other material.

Book Review - Treasure Fever

Seth chose this gem for his fourth grade bookclub selection. I was a little embarrassed that it didn't have any deeper themes than goofy kids and teachers trying to find a buried treasure on the school playground, but after listening to his friends all laugh about their favorite parts, I figured not all children's literature needs to be deep.

This would be a good choice if you're looking for something to spur on your third/fourth grader to read.

Book Review - South of Broad

Having read my first Pat Conroy this past year (Prince of Tides) and enjoying his Southern view of things and especially his luscious descriptive writing, I rather excitedly listened to his highly anticipated new release throughout a long road trip. While I can't say the story is good, due to the fact that Conroy misstepped in trying to include social commentary and by so doing turned his entire novel into an hyperbole, it was interesting enough. Familiar even. Almost...Prince of Tides-esque.

Main protagonist who had a nervous breakdown? Check.

Unnaturally cold and ambitious mother? Check.

Beautiful and understanding psychiatrist? Check.

Background high school football story? Check.

supporting character who loses her sanity? check.

Someone who escapes their Southern roots for a big city? Check.

Extremely sympathetically written adultery? Check.

Marriage that stays together in spite of adultery? Check.

Psychopath on the loose who does unspeakable things? Check.

Saving a magical dolphin who has the power to heal all wounds? Check.

I'm sure there are more but as it has been over five months since I listened to this story, some of the details are fuzzy.

Like I said, it had the same elements of Prince of Tides, but then Conroy decided to go BIG this time threw in white trash commentary, civil rights commentary, teenage promiscuity commentary, drug use commentary, AIDS commentary, Catholic Church sex scandal commentary, suicide, natural disasters and on and on and on.

Too much. It's just too much.

On top of all of that he tried to make this about Charleston. I've been to Charleston. It's a lovely, lovely city. But, having only been there once for two days, I could not keep track of his street naming ways. I felt his constant need to map out every scene in an exact Charleston location made his setting too exclusive. It made a confusing and bloated story even more confusing.

Book Review - The Tourist

I like spy fiction. In The Tourist, Steinhauer captures what I thinking being a spy might actually be like. Kind of sucky. Sure, there's the thrill of the chase, the robot-like cool reasoning and lightning fast reflexes, which along with a seemingly perfect aim packs a hard punch, but what about their feelings? What about their inner non-spy self?

Just what I thought - they're miserable, unable to trust (except for the one guy/gal they do who almost always seems to be a backstabbing double agent) and pretty doped up. Forget about a normal love life.

Corrupted governments, bad guys, and travel abroad make it an almost hackneyed spy thriller, but there is just something about Milo Weaver, the ex-CIA agent, and his unique brand of spying that makes it a bit more interesting and realistic than some.

Back To School

Seth and Sam started 5th and 2nd Grade today at their new elementary school. Both were nervous, but Sam surprised me when he walked into my bedroom this morning at 6:00 am fully clothed, shoes on and wearing his ready-to-go backpack. I talked him into taking his shoes off and crawling into bed with me but he never was able to fall back asleep.

Seth had to be woken up at 6:45.

Henry alternated between wearing his own backpack around the house and refusing to get his shoes on because he "NEVER WANTS TO GO TO SCHOOL NOT EVER!" He doesn't even start preschool until Wednesday so that was a lot of drama for nothing.

Things went well. Both boys were happy and confident at the end of the day and I think this year is going to be great. How could it not when you're as good looking as these boys are?

Go get 'em, boys!

Spending It Wisely

It's over.  Summer as it matters to kids and to moms (but not to equinoxes) is over.  Today has been spent with our usual Sunday activities but tonight, the emotions were revved up as we labeled shiny new folders with names, filled boxes with complete sets of markers and crayons, scissors, glue sticks and even a fancy new spell checking machine for Seth.  It's the night before school starts and we....are.....ready!

The stars must have aligned into some make-Lucy-happy formation because this final weekend found both Jay and Seth released from their work and football commitments.   We packed the van full of sleeping bags and camping gear, loaded Jay's dad's truck with boat necessities and headed to the lake to enjoy our beautiful family time together.

The boys must have said it a dozen times throughout our two days together, but it really was the best weekend ever.  Our summer has been on the cool side, and hot, sunny days where you crave getting into cool lake water have been hard to find.  We were blessed to have two of them in a row, and we have the tans to prove it.

I have mixed feelings about school restarting.  At the beginning of the summer, I admit to being a little ashamed that my initial reaction to having my children surrounding me all day wasn't wondrous pleasure.  I had mistakenly believed that I was that kind of mom, the kind that can say with a straight face, "I can't wait to get my kids back all day!" because I truly felt that exact sentiment during previous summers.  The difference this time was that each of those previous summers meant returning playmates for whichever boy(s) were at home.   Needless to say, with Henry in all-day pre-school last year, that wasn't the case for this summer.  And that change to the flow of my day, along with the increase in noise, mess and demands for food, was a lot harder to adapt back into than I anticipated.

In spite my early summer misstep as the kind of mom I don't really want to be, the four of us eventually found our summer groove and most days have been delightful.   I am honest-to-goodness sad that summer is over and our mostly care-free days have ended.  On the other hand, I am a little glad that our care-free days have ended.  It will be good for all of us to have a few more responsibilities and I'm hoping some better habits in time-management return.  Plus, though faded, I still remember the thrill of child-free days.  It's not that the days are less busy, because oddly enough, that isn't the case at all  It's just....more....predictable?  Controllable?  I don't know exactly what but for me and my personality, there is simply less stressful.  Not those after-school hours, mind you.  Those hours between 3 and 9 are non-stop, which gives me stress, but I begrudge it less because I've had the day to prepare physically and emotionally.


So....it ends and it begins, as it will season after season.  The key, I'm learning, is to try and enjoy each season as it comes and to spend whatever moment I'm in wisely.

Ugly fish who beg for food at the marina.  They are enormous and black and very unappetizing.

Lots and lots of tubing this weekend.  The boys, especially these two, got braver with each outing.  No more tears when they get tossed off!

We still go pretty slow with this one.

Handsome guy.

Handsome guy.

Handsome guy.

Handsome guy.

We found some rocks to jump off of.  Sam was the fearless leader.  He is going to be one to keep us on our toes, I think.

Rock climbing to get to the jumping place.

This is actually the second time they jumped, because the first time, Jay insisted he go first.  It was more nerve wracking than Jay expected and while he was hesitating, Sam patted him on the back and said, "Go, Jay.  You're our only hope."  Funny, funny kid.

Jay has wanted to try this since hearing about all of his friends jumping the cliffs during high school.

Then my thoughtful Seth went.  For him to do this, when almost every part of his brain is arguing against it, is very, very brave and impressive.  Sometimes I worry about the attention Sam gets (from us and from others) for being so confident and courageous.  I know from comments Seth makes, that he is aware that those qualities are to be admired and doesn't understand his sensitivity is equally laudable.   Big props to this guy for doing this.  It was a BIG deal.

Relieved that none of the bad outcomes he could think of happened.

Then Sam went again, this time doing a 360.  Unfortunately, he got turned sideways and hit the water hard.

Then my littlest jumper who said he would jump off the rocks when he was, "a wittle bit owder."

Fun enough:)

Then skiing.

Sam and Seth too but I didn't get a picture of Seth because there just a lot more stress involved while he's out on the water (mostly from him screaming about how cold he is).

Campfire s'mores.

Stories, games and just chilling.

Ready for bed.

And so am I (Jay apologized for not taking pictures of me and made an effort to get this one.  Of course, being the vain person that I am, I had no desire to post this but have to reinforce the effort.  I am glad he wasn't able to get any of me in a swimsuit because I'm fairly certain nothing, not even reinforcement, would motivate me to post those online:))

Good-bye Summer!!!!

Getting Over It

• the sound of slurping with a straw.  It's gone already, O.K?!?
• Cars behind me in the merge lane that dart out into the traffic lane too early and then make it hard for me to merge into traffic.  
• Swim teachers that don't show up.
• having five, yes five, cordless phones around the house and not being able to find a single one when the phone rings.
• Qwest for only giving me three rings in the first place before my voice mail picks up.  
• being over half-way done with a scarf and making an ugly mistake I can't figure out how to fix.  
• piano lessons during the summer.  It's been a total waste because we are so inconsistent.
• Having to be the TV/Wii/Nintendo DS police.
• how flaky I can be sometimes.  I forgot about swimming with my friend this morning AND a playdate.
• being in my car all $%&*!@ day.
• cats who won't eat their dry food and beg at my feet for wet food.
• coming up with something for dinner.
• four adult women that set up their towels at the pool way too close to me, then talk so loud that I can't concentrate on my book, even though there was plenty of room elsewhere.
• teenagers and their inappropriate public displays of affection at a park with my young children around.  I wished I had my camera again although these young punks weren't even trying to be discreet.   
• Plants that need water.  Must I take care of everything???
• People who drive under the speed limit.  I know it's a speed "limit" but, c'mon!
• Sonic employees who mumble so I don't know how much I owe for my "Happy Hour" drinks.  I like to use exact change. 
• trying to park on main street during tourist season.
• tourists
• society, in general, with their lack of clothing coverage and inked skin.
• bookstores that don't carry a book I want.
• kids who leave all of their junk, garbage, swimtowels, waterbottles, K'nex in the car.  Don't they understand how many hours a day I have to spend in there?  I just want to see some carpet!
• K'nex.  They are of the devil.
• a husband who calls home to tell me he's on his way home and has had a bad day too....stealing all my grumpy mojo.  Because both parents can't be grumpy at the same time.  It just doesn't work.  

O.K. Putting on my happy face for the rest of the night.  

Book Review - Classic #16 - Brave New World

I had two reactions after reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley.  They don't really follow the same thought, so I'll just explain them separately with no attempt to connect the two.

First, some background.  Set in the future when time is measured in AF (After Ford), the inhabitants of the Brave New World are all created in-vitro with a process that creates multiple divisions of a single egg, producing sets of identical people.  These groups of embryos are then determined into a class (Alpha-Epsilon) and while gestating in their test tubes, exposed to stimuli that will condition them for their lives.  Each group is taught that every class is important to for the society, as a whole, to work.  For example, Epsilons, the lowest form of human, are not allowed to fully mentally develop so that they will never challenge their positions doing mundane menial tasks.  Alphas, on the other hand, are considered the very best of society, and are developed in order to fill the most most important roles:  researchers, lab controllers, songsters, writers etc.  In other words, those who live in the Alpha world are conditioned to think and be creative, but only in a manner that is deemed acceptable, as we understand by following the troubled Bernard Marx and Hemholtz Watson, who are both aware of the danger that exists should their unorthodox thinking be discovered.

Promiscuous sex, drug use and euthanasia at 60 is also encouraged in this futuristic utopia.

What I noticed right away was the obvious lack of agency.  My own beliefs put a supreme importance on agency, opposition or as John the Savage (the protagonist who was raised outside of "civilized" society) the "right to choose unhappiness."  By creating a world where "Everyone is happy" it is easy to see that no one really is.  Sure, there is no disease and everyone is beautiful and there is no one who has less or more than they can use or enjoy, but their dependence on soma (apparently a safe hallucinatory drug) to keep things running smoothly indicates a false existence.  I kept thinking, "This is Satan's plan!" (which, I have to admit I sometimes think when I hear socialists talk about making things "fair").

As I completed the book, however, I had another disturbing thought.  When the citizens make comments that replace "God" with "Ford", I wondered if Huxley had really created a new world or simply replaced our current acceptable morality with a different, more shocking one.  Instead of families being the ideal, the idea of a mother actually giving birth, nursing and caring for her young was considered obscene - pornographic really.  But...there was still the idea that pornography or obscenity were undesirable and to be shunned.  It was just the matter of what was being shunned that had changed.  Likewise, the "everybody belongs to everybody else" mantra to encourage promiscuity instead of monogamy is just a flip of what we consider decent.  The alternative was considered dangerous and anti-social, but only because different morals were considered the norm.

But, I don't believe we live in an anti-agency society, so Huxley's Brave New World can't really be that similar to our own.  I don't think Huxley was satirizing our own moral conditioning so I'm pretty sure I'm wrong about that one.

Book Review - Classic #15 - Mere Christianity

I don't know how to begin this book review.  I've probably typed and deleted a dozen sentences already.  Why should this be so difficult?

Because, I liked it.

I did.

Except.

No. Even that part, the part he got wrong, I liked.

Which made me wonder.

Who is this book for?

Christians?

Obviously. We love this stuff. Having a smart guy give smart reasons to explain why Christianity makes perfect sense feels...smart. It sits well, if you will. Many, if not most, of his arguments were things I had not previously thought about in terms of why I believe there is a God and why I believe that Christ was our Savior, and to have them explained to me with both his brilliant circular logic and then the helpful and much-easier-to-follow analogy, filled my believer's bucket.

But I don't think Lewis prepared these addresses (Mere Christianity is actually a compilation of radio addresses he delivered on the BBC during the Second World War) in order to simply preach to the choir.

Because Lewis was a former atheist, I believe he felt strongly, especially during such a major conflict as the war which included in its causes a fight against evil, that the world needed to understand where our morality comes from.  I think he was motivated to convince the masses that goodness isn't something we choose because it makes the world a better place or because our parents taught us the golden rule but rather, we choose it because God is real.  Christ is real.  And the possibility to become like them is real.

So, what about the others?  How would a non-Christian respond to Lewis?

It's hard for me to say, because, while I think he's very convincing and right quite a lot of the time, there are times throughout the book where I think he's wrong.  I think he's wrong because I have been taught something different and I believe that to be truth instead.  It's difficult for me to not take that one step further and assume that others who have been taught something else might thing he's wrong in even more places.

This inability for me to claim the book as all right is a stumbling block.  I want to be able to say, "Read this.  He makes the case for Christianity."  But I'd have to add, "However, I think he's a little off about the Godhead."    Lewis, himself, frequently cites his own reasoning as guesswork.  I admire his ability to say, "I can't be sure but this is how I think it works."  If he had done that with the Godhead, I'd probably be a lot more at ease with my reaction to the book but he doesn't.  He's pretty firm about how God begat Christ, which makes him his "Son" although they are the same being, just as a cube can be made up of more than one squares but they are not separate from the cube.    They are the cube.  God is God.  All of Him.  I'd continue to explain the Holy Ghost but it gets a little confusing.  My belief that they are three different beings is so much more clear to me.

Still, it is what it is.  A fascinating and articulate justification forChristianity.  And read with a proper British voice narrating in my head, it was a delightful and enlightening read.