Quick summary of yesterday afternoon and evening:

RAIN!  LIGHTNING!  THUNDER!  HAIL!  DARKNESS LIKE THE BLACK OF NIGHT!  RAIN, RAIN, RAIN!

Then:

Water in the basement.  No electricity.  Darkness.  Bored and slightly frightened preschooler.  Harassed mommy.  Early bedtime.  For all.

We still have no electricity and it's not expected to return until tomorrow evening.  So that review I promised as well as any other blogging?  Well, it'll be delayed.  I'm at the library right now juicing up my laptop so I can write that review and another one tonight.  Yay for libraries! 

...but I've sort of gotten addicted to my son's Webkinz world.  It started off very innocuously.  Nana got him a Webkinz account, and as the site requires reading and Max is pre-literate, I set it up for him.  We chose a name, he chose a gender, then when it was too late waffled.  So Meowser, his little black cat is transgendered now, since once you've picked you can't unpick, but Max insists that "he" is a girl. 

He's got a pretty pink outfit, with little pink sunglasses and pink shoes, and a pink hat, anyway.  

When you start off Webkinz gives you a few trifling things for your room and about 2000 credits.  This gets you sort of nowhere.  You can buy a bed and some food and a couple more pieces of furniture, but none of the cool furniture sets or more than one interactive feature.  So before I knew it, I was playing the games in order to get Max more stuff for his room.   Then I got him another room, since having a toilet and a refrigerator in the bedroom was too college-dorm-roomish for my taste.  Then I got him a yard.  Then another room.  Then a pool for his yard.  Then little garden patches you can water every day and watch grow.  Pretty soon it had gotten out of hand, and I had a Second Life as a kitten.  All of the appliances in the kitchen matched the tile and wallpaper.  The bathroom fixtures of Meowser's WC quaintly accessorized the paint and flooring.  Meowser can now cook on "her" little stove and take a bath in "her" little bathtub.  She can brush her hair and teeth.  Her garden is flourishing.  

Ack.  

Two days ago, I confronted the madness.  Yes, it was fun to play the trivia games, esp. given that I can pretty much stomp questions for 4th graders.  (Go me.  In most cases, I am "smarter than a fifth grader.")  Yes, Max likes playing with his Webkinz pet and also answering age-appropriate trivia questions.  Yes, it is sort of soothing for me to be able to decorate a little home the way I want it and return to find it still neat and tidy - Meowser doesn't leave dishes on the counter or underwear on the floor; and "she" doesn't track dirt all over the bathroom tile like my real dogs do.   But this is a kid's game.  And I was spending way too much of the little time I have to myself on it.  So for two days I left it alone.  Then I made the mistake of showing "Max's" little Webkinz world to my niece who thought his three-room spread with backyard was too cool, and could I fix up a little something for her Little Kinz too?  

Can you see where this is going?  I know you can.  Tonight I was sucked back in to playing faux Boggle, checkers, and answering those same trivia questions I answered for Meowser again.  But now Nannie's Little Kinz has his own oven and his own garden and his own bathroom (with purple walls and tile).  

And everyone is happy.  I think.  

(For anyone waiting on that Dessen review, I promise, I promise, I'll try to get to it tomorrow.  Have patience with me, a poor addicted Webkinz mom.) 

I have a new review up at All About Romance for Hidden by Eve Kenin.  Check it out!

Kenin's first book in this post-Apocalyse series, Driven, got a lot of buzz last year, but I had an only slightly better than "Eh." reaction to it.  The world building was very good.  The romance - not so much.  

 

In other news, I have almost finished a book.  Wow, huh?   I'm going to try and get a review for Sarah Dessen's new one, Lock and Key up in the next few days.   It's taken me ages to get through it, much longer than her other ones have.  It's a pretty good read, but IMHO, not up to her usual standards.  

 

Summers at Castle Auburn Sharon Shinn Fantasy  Rating: A

 

"Coriel Halsing is the illegitimate daughter of Lord Halsing, one of the highest nobles in the kingdom. When Lord Halsing dies, his brother Jaxon honors his dying wish to find Corie and bring her to Castle Auburn. This visit establishes a pattern for her life. She spends every summer with Jaxon and her half-sister Elisandra at Castle Auburn learning the important skills of a lady. The rest of the year she lives in a small village with her grandmother, learning to be an herbalist and wise woman. Over time she becomes fully acquainted with her two worlds, but less and less a true member of either.

The story begins in the summer of her fourteenth year. Jaxon is a great hunter of aliora, a fairy like folk who live deep in the forests. He catches them and sells them as slaves to the aristocracy. This year he takes Corie hunting with him. He also takes along Prince Bryan, with whom Corie is madly in love, and Bryan's cousin Kent, a much kinder, more considerate young man. Corie has a wonderful time with all of them but this summer marks the end of Corie's childhood, because at the end of it she begins to realize that the people and things she has loved and valued are not really what she has perceived them to be. She begins to be aware of the plots and intrigues that spin at Castle Auburn, including those involving the fates of herself and her beloved sister. As the years pass and her strange position at court solidifies, Corie must decide who she is and what she will be.

The Fantasy genre is a natural extension of the fairy tales many of us loved as children. And this story reads just like a lovely long fairy tale. The magical creatures here are the aliora. They are fey and friendly and healing just to be around. Corie loves the aliora, she loves to be with them, but as she grows older, she becomes more and more horrified at their state of enslavement. Interestingly paralleled with the alioras' plight is that of Corie, her sister and all the women at court. How they all seek freedom from their bondage is touching and sad and, occasionally, horrifying. Shinn expertly weaves all their stories together in a fascinating way.

And, as in all of her books, Shinn includes touches of romance. There are three romantic sub-plots here, and the sweetest and most developed is Corie's. She starts off young and quite infatuated with the unattainable (and, in many ways, undesirable) Prince Bryan. But as she ages, matures, and decides most emphatically who she is, she comes to better understand her heart and chooses more wisely whom to love. And like any fairy tale heroine, she gets a full and glorious Happily Ever After for her efforts.

Summers at Castle Auburn is a fully satisfying read. It has wonderful characters, mythical creatures and places, and a dash of court intrigue and scheming to make things even more interesting. Sharon Shinn is a fine author, and I very much look forward to any future offerings. For those of you who like fairy tales or wonderful stories in general, do pick up a copy of this book."

Click here for the rest of the review.  

This book is available cheap at half.com.

 

 

J. sent me a link to this article in the Telegraph.  

"Vladimir Putin has enhanced his image as Russia's leading sex symbol after a commemorative magazine wholly dedicated to his virility and reputation as a "vampire" rapidly sold out in the kiosks of Moscow."

Among the highlights:

"This time the magazine has outdone itself, carrying numerous photos of the prime minister in heroic poses, kayaking, swimming with dolphins and arm wrestling, under the headline: "Sometimes He's Just So Cool".  "There's not a single woman who would not dream of embracing and kissing Vladimir Vladimirovich and hearing his declaration of love," the article opined.

While this "commemorative magazine" can be dismissed as a government controlled media's pandering to its puppeteer, I had to chortle at the idea of Putin as a sex god.  Yes, he seems to be in decent shape for a man his age, but he's also gray as a zombie in 99% of the pictures taken of him, as well as being thin lipped, weak chinned, narrow eyed, and balding.  None of which would really matter, if he were a nice guy on the up an up instead of a controlling powermonger intent on squelching freedom and democracy in Russia while simultaneously playing a chess game with Russia's oligarchs.

 

 

 

 

Compare him to Mikhail Khodorkovsky, another 90's ruthless  manipulator who was singled out as dangerous by Putin and now resides in a Siberian prison thanks to Mr. Sexy.  Khodorkovsky manages to look good even in jail.  Well, at his trial, at least.  Who knows what he looks like now, nestled as he currently is, in the heart of Krasnokamensk's uranium mines.  

 

  

 

 

Here are my favorite pictures.  This first on was taken at the sand dunes on Silver Lake.  We walked up and down them for awhile (go, Mom!), the kids and my BIL jumped off them.  Finally, after snapping a bunch of other pics, I jumped down a dune, and looking back up, I saw this (more or less).  It seemed very Holes so I asked everyone to line up.  I love the way the kids are all posing SuperHero style.  

The weather at the cottage this year was fairly cool and somewhat overcast.  We all bundled up in sweatshirts and blankets at times, but it was perfect for walking the dunes.  We had a picnic, went to the Little Sable Point lighthouse, dipped our toes into Silver Lake, and went home for pizza and ice cream.  

Otherwise, I just loafed around, let Mom and Dad entertain Max when he woke up super early as is his summertime wont, read a few books, took some walks with my sister, and tried not to eat too much.  It was too cold to swim.  Oh, and I played with the frolicking white dog three cottages down.  I really missed Milo and Rosie, but I was glad that, if I had to kennel Rosie, Milo was there with her so she wouldn't be lonely.   When I got too homesick for the poochies, I sought out the white dog, D.D., and play with her for awhile.  

Here's one more great photo from this week: my mom and dad.  Forty years together and still holding hands!  I'm not one for too much sentiment, but it's kind of sweet the way their connected bodies form a heart shape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Last Key Beverly Sommers Romance novel  Harlequin American #69  1984 Rating: C+

 

The Last Key is the latest in a series of Beverly Sommers's books that I have been slowing glomming.  Readers looking for an out-of-the-mold category romance experience probably couldn't do better than Sommers.  Whilel reading I have numerous times thought to myself, "Wait - did that character really say that?  Did he think that?  What did she just do?"  Sommers oeuvre could be titled You Can Do That in Category Romance (Just Don't Expect to Rake It in). 

Toby charters a fishing boat in Key West, Florida.  Nobody knows who she is, and Toby likes it that way.  She has good reason to stay anonymous and off the radar.  She has no identification, no bank account, no credit cards, and no way for anyone to prove she isn't who she says she is...unless the right people come calling.

Ian "Mac" McQuade also isn't who he says he is.  Mac is a DEA agent assigned to find the smuggler bringing significant shipments of cocaine into Key West.  Every other boat owner in Key West checks out okay, except for Toby, who, of course, doesn't check out at all.  So Mac begins investigating her, disguising himself as a well-to-do travel writer who wants to do some fishing.  Toby sees through his disguise right away, but leaps to the wrong conclusion and assumes he's interested in her because of her past.  With each of them firm in their wrong assumptions, things between them get complicated quickly.  But what's not complicated is the sexual attraction that leaps up between them; it's not complicated, it's primal.  

In some ways The Last Key is very category romance: there's a hook - in this case the disguises, there's the hero doing a dangerous job, there's also the sizzling attraction that culminates quickly into lust then love.  The story takes place in over a short time period, too.  What exists between Toby and Mac isn't Love at First Sight, but it's Pretty Quick Love, nonetheless.  All of these elements are ones category romance readers are familiar with.  But there are a number of other story and character elements you won't find in category romance today, including:

• a twice-divorced, somewhat chauvinistic hero who smokes
• a heroine who knows how to doll herself up, but doesn't bother to do it or wear a bra (ever)
  
• protagonists who don't want marriage and don't want children
• a complete absence of young children
• a heroine who, when confronted with the possibility of pregnancy, reminds herself there are plenty of clinics available
• "negotiable" personal preferences being a stronger deterrent to the relationship than plot elements or psychological issues
• love scenes without the obligatory condom reference or soothing conversations about lack of past partners

Toby and Mac are also just the teensiest bit less than perfect as characters.  Toby is not just discreet, she's downright anti-social.  She has her reasons for shouldering away any and all specimens of humanity she doesn't need for financial reasons, but it doesn't make her Miss Congeniality.  Mac is twice divorced, probably because he's got a fairly jerkish way of viewing females that eventually his wives had to have picked up on.  He's not the Linda Howard alpha jerk sort, but he does view women as there primarily for the comfort of men (himself, particularly) and when they stop fulfilling their end of the deal, he's out.  It's interesting that he's attracted to Toby, then, as she views being decorative and available as the last necessary traits she's interested in cultivating.  He also bumbles his job investigating Toby.  She sees through him immediately and knows when he snoops around her boat.  

The setting, Key West, is an interesting choice, given that it's touristy and gay, both of which Sommers points out repeatedly without comment.  Toby is completely blase about the gay men she knows, and none of the male heterosexual characters seem at all threatened or angry at being somewhat outnumbered.  

This book was written in 1984, I must repeat.  

All of the above factor into a neutral reaction for me.  The unusual elements make for an interesting read, balancing out Mac and Toby's character flaws.  The plot, though, brings the grade down a notch.  For all that the set-up makes this seem a suspense plot, it's not.  Ultimately, the question of who is bringing the drugs into Key West is resolved very tidily and quickly without any blood or sweat being shed.   It's the big Go Nowhere Plot.  And the love story is also unsatisfying.  Mac and Toby get along very well in the sack (The Last Key was pretty steamy for a Beverly Sommers book; usually her love scenes are far more subtle), but they don't have much in common and their lifestyles aren't really that compatible.  The story takes place over a short period and most of that time the two of them are lying their heads off to each other.  The final resolution of all of this seems both unbelievable and Harlequinized at the same time.  Conflicts that seem insurmountable turn out to be nothing, and problems that could be resolved trip both of them up.

Still, I would say this is worth reading just for the unusual elements.  If you happen to come across it, pick it up and let me know what you think. 

Kiss an Angel Susan Elizabeth Phillips Romance Novel  1996 Rating: A-

 

"Kiss an Angel is one of my favorite comfort reads. I drag it out when I need to smile. It's a wonderful story of personal growth, filled with humor, emotion, and some pretty sexy love scenes. This is Susan Elizabeth Phillips at her most enjoyable.

The death of her mother, a resultant spending spree, and a mountain of debt all conspire to place Daisy Devreaux at her father's mercy. Rather than go to jail, she agrees to his scheme: she will marry the man of her father's choice and stay married to him for six months. Then she can claim her trust fund and get on with her regularly scheduled life. This is all well and good until Daisy realizes, just moments after the vows are spoken, that her new husband cannot be controlled and he won't bargain. She is completely at his mercy, and suddenly prison doesn't seem like such a bad option.

Alex Markov agrees to this marriage of convenience for his own reasons, and he is determined to keep his promise to Daisy's father. On his watch, Daisy will grow a backbone and some character. He hauls her from her posh surroundings in New York City to the rural South for a six-month traveling circus tour with the Quest Brothers Circus, a small, not amazingly successful outfit of performers. She will do what he tells her when he tells her to do it, or he will make her existence most unpleasant.

Neither of these two thinks much of the other when they meet. Daisy considers Alex an overbearing monster, and Alex thinks his new wife is a frivolous piece of fluff. Neither is looking for anything more than a six-month tour of duty for which they will receive eventual payment. But this inconvenient marriage of convenience quickly takes on a life of its own, and both Daisy and Alex must confront their strong attraction to each other.

I've heard people say that they don't like this book because Alex is such a bastard to Daisy, especially in the beginning. That isn't quite how I see it. Alex is very rough and intimidating, and he does give her all kinds of crap. He also blames her for a particularly unpleasant incident and refuses to believe she's telling the truth. However, given the circumstances surrounding Daisy's agreeing to the marriage, as well as her father's assertions to Alex that she's a flaky dingbat, this is understandable. Alex sees himself primarily as a boot camp instructor at Camp Character-Building, and, as such, he's not obliged to treat Daisy with reverence or even anything more than cursory consideration. And he does lose his initial grumpiness eventually and becomes pretty romantic for an alpha guy. I found him extremely appealing.

Daisy goes through a different kind of transformation. In the beginning, she's scared of Alex, but she still manages to stick up for herself. How she learns to fling his crap right back at him is what makes this book such a romp. As the story progresses, she grows more and more sure of herself and her abilities. Phillips takes her on a very nice character arc, growing her and growing her until the reader is questioning whether Alex is a match for her, instead of the other way around. Fans of Linda Howard's Duncan's Bride might find Daisy's refusal to take a man's garbage very familiar. She and Madelyn have a fair bit in common.

The secondary characters are interesting as well. In fact, of all of Phillips' books, I think this one combines the multiple stories the most seamlessly and to the best effect. Alex's former lover, Sheba Quest, is fairly nasty to Daisy and quite manipulative of the situation overall. It would have been easy for Phillips to have made her into the stereotypical slutty conniving witch we've all seen too much of. Instead, she goes out of her way to explain why Sheba feels the way she does and how she really isn't a bad person, merely overly prideful. Heather, a teenage circus worker who causes trouble for Daisy, is also fleshed out. Even the circus animals have their own personalities, and they manage to be funny and endearing without being too cutesy.

The book stumbles into melodrama and sentiment in the last fifty pages, however, and this minor lapse is the only thing that keeps it from achieving DIK status. Up until that point, everything sparkles. The dialogue, the characterizations, the interesting setting, all these things combine to make a darn fine read. But the decisions Daisy makes in the last little bit of the story seem largely unnecessary and slightly out of character."

Click here for the rest of the review.  

This book is available cheap at half.com or at Bookmooch.

 

 

It appears to be official: my body has reverted to its pre-Max weight and seems to be maintaining it.  When I started walking back in 1999, I found that a half an hour was enough exercise for me to lose about 5 pounds a year without dieting, but 45 minutes or more really shed the pounds.  Whenever I found myself plateauing in the weight loss, I'd add another 15 minutes of walking to the routine, and that would get it going again.  But by the time we got Max's referral I was walking an hour and fifteen minutes a day and was finding it hard fitting more time in for exercise (little did I know how much free time I actually had then).  I'd gotten stuck at the same weight I am now, well within normal BMI guidelines, but hardly what anyone would call "skinny."

Then I had a massive three-month anxiety attack with all the travel and to-do over adopting Max.  This completely suppressed my appetite and nine extra pounds slid off before I could say, "Jiminy Cricket."  Living with the anxiety was terrible, truly awful, but losing the weight was a fantastic side benefit.  I got into size 2 clothes.  I bought new bathing suits.   I swanned around feeling all skinny-like.  I felt so good about myself that I started lifting weights for extra tone (that didn't last long; how boring is lifting weights?). 

Then slowly, gradually, the weight crept on again.   The first summer I chalked it up to the cookie dough addiction I developed.  Then I gained a little at Thanksgiving and maybe a pound or two over Christmas.  It was distressing at first.   Then it was even more distressing.  I'd thought the hard part was losing it, not keeping it off.  And I was still exercising!  I was up to an hour and a half a day of walking or more.  Perhaps it's rationalizing on my part, but, having read Gina Kolata's Rethinking Thin, I think my body was slowly dragging itself to its set point, like a lodestone pulls the needle to N.  The cookie dough was no help, but the body's ability to maintain a set point, speeding or slowing metabolism to accomplish it, is nothing to laugh at.  

So now here we are.  Or here I am.  Back to where I was before Max.  No more and no less.  I don't seem to be gaining, but I'm certainly not losing.  And it's summer and I hate the way I look in my summer clothes.  My arms feel fat in tank tops, my thighs look white and chubby in shorts.  I have no heat tolerance.  When it gets above 80 degrees, I want to shave my head and go naked all the time.  Except I can't, because it's illegal.  And also because I've lost all confidence in the way I look.  At least my winter mom clothes hide the flaws.  My summer mom clothes accentuate the flaws.  In   the summer I don't just want to lose 9 pounds, I want to lose 19 just so nothing on my body can touch and sweat.

I love summer, but I feel so old and matronly looking right now.  Argh. 

 

 

Both Sarah Dessen's Lock and Key and Janice Kay Johnson's The Man Behind the Cop are sitting on my bedside table (finally!), but I still have plenty of book lust in me, it seems.    Before I get to any of these, though, I've got to pick a book for TBR Wednesday.  Must get cracking on that!  

 

 

I can't remember how I came across this video.  I was probably looking for Russian contemporary language use.  When I think of all the long hours I spent in the language lab at the University of Michigan for my Russian 300 and 400 level courses, watching and re-watching boring and crappily recorded political TV, I could cry.  Now people learning Russian can just log on to the internet, watch MTV-esque videos and google the translation.  Presto.  Amazing.  I would never have imagined things could change so fast in 15 years.  I'm not even going to get started on using the card catalog, the Reader's Guide to Periodical Literature, the deep, dark stacks, and an old typewriter to write research papers.

Anyway, here's the video.  It's in Russian.  The title is "School" and it's by the group Любовные Истории, Love Stories.  

Even though this is in Russian, I think the average person can still get what's going on here, at least upon repeated viewings.  Four women in their twenties are meeting in a cafe and seeing a schoolgirl at a table nearby (the girl with the bows in her hair, a very Russian look for girls), they begin to relive their school days together.  

What they remember is the usual - schoolyard play, crushes, bullying, jealousy, and competition over a guy, in this case their science teacher.  Yet they all miss it.  The song's refrain is "School, school, I miss you..."

 What's most interesting to me, having taught in a Russian school, is the background detail.   The classroom's wooden desks.  The plants in the back.  The big, wide glass windows.  this was my schoolroom here to the right.   Most of the core elements are the same, although Kaliningrad School #50's exterior wasn't nearly so elegant looking. 

 

 

Then there are the pretty, clean, smart-looking girls just becoming aware of themselves and their power over men.  The wide boy gap with its two unbridgeable sides: geek and punk.  The erect, earnest way the dark curly-haired girl holds her hand up to answer a question.   To the left here are my 10th formers - not nearly so mature looking, but this pic isn't from a music video.  

And then there's the ending story shocker (roll over): The shy, geeky (gorgeous) girl gets the guy.   I did not see that coming!  But perhaps I should have...

Another point of interest for me was how happily these girls remember school.  Most of my relationships with other girls in middle school and high school were so distressing and anxiety provoking that by 11th grade I pretty much gave up on them and hung out with boys instead.  I can't imagine missing school this much.  It's been 19 years for me, long enough for much of the trauma to fade, but I'm still watching Buffy and Veronica Mars and Mean Girls for cheap therapy.  Maybe it's different when you're gorgeous.  And Russian.  I don't know.  Still, it's a happy dream. 

 

And while I'm waxing nostalgic, here are few more pictures, this time of that much younger me with my students.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wow, I was young!

Bliss Judy Cuevas (Judith Ivory) Romance Novel  1995 Rating: A

 

"The first time I read Bliss, I was absolutely intoxicated by it. It absorbed me and kept me completely in its power. For a whole two days all I did was eat, sleep, dream, breathe Bliss. I read it over and over, wondering each time that it should so affect me. Because by any measure this book should not have worked for me. The hero is a washed-up artistic genius who never met a drug he didn't like, and the heroine is a materialistic, ambitious upstart of a little thing who thumbs her nose at society's strictures. But somehow it worked. It really worked.

Hannah Van Evan is a woman with a sordid past. It is entirely necessary for her to leave Miami because, due to some rather scandalous behavior, she has become known as Miss Seven-Minutes-of-Heaven. She applies for a job as an assistant to Mrs. Amelia Besom, an American antiques and arts appraiser who is going to Europe to search for finds. They wind up at a ramshackle estate in rural France, and Hannah is intrigued by the owner's warning to stay away from a certain cottage.

Nardi de Saint Vallier comes from a blue-blooded family, has had every advantage given to him, and is possessed of a most spectacular talent. An acclaimed sculptor, he has been feted by all of Europe. And then a few years ago some of his pieces were not so well received. He did not take the criticism constructively and went on a bender that has included every intoxicating substance known to man. At the start of the story he has not been sober in a good long time, and his current escape of choice is drinking ether. His family has become concerned.

Due to some rather fancy Saint Vallier maneuvering, Nardi finds himself imprisoned in a cottage on the ancestral estate, engaged to the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, and denied any contact with artificial stimulants. He has been the subject of a proto-intervention, and he is none too happy about it. So when Hannah stumbles curiously into his lair, he tries to charm her into giving him what he wants: ether first, and then, s'il vous plait, Hannah herself.

I have to tell you that I was very, very prepared to dislike Nardi. He's such a mess and so terribly unrepentant about his own chaos. When we meet him first he's barfing into a grand piano at a party. He is a liar and a manipulator whose only enjoyment is telling his brother/jailor Sebastien where he can go. So how did Cuevas make him sympathetic? By making him sexy as hell, charming as the day is long, and entirely aware of all his own flaws. Nardi has no illusions about himself. He knows he's a screw-up and far too sensitive. He just doesn't know how to do anything about it. And he's so anesthetized that he doesn't care anymore about anything. Until Hannah shows up and reminds him about life and hope and beauty.

And Hannah is flawed and fully human too. She wants to be rich and successful, and so is highly ambitious. She is quite impressed with the Saint Vallier chateau, more impressed with it at times than she is with Nardi. I found this perversely refreshing. When was the last time you read about a heroine who wanted the money? Who was impressed with beautiful things? Hannah's inclinations may not be noble, but they are human, and by making her characters so flawed, Cuevas also makes them so real.

And there were so many other things that I liked about Bliss. The setting is highly original and very atmospheric. The crumbling chateau, filled with priceless treasures, both the source of great family pride and great family embarrassment, looms metaphorically in the background, half a character in and of itself. Its presence and condition affects all of the characters' decisions. The only one not obsessed with its vast potential, appropriately, is Nardi. I became half-obsessed with it myself. Where is it, Judy? Do they give regular tours in the summertime?

Two more highlights: the writing quality here is superior to just about anything I've read in romance. It's textured and tactile; you can feel every aspect of a summer evening in France, a woman's complicated clothing cage, a man's soft ether stupor. And finally, Sebastien, Nardi's brother is probably the most rounded villain I've ever come across. Every smug, controlling behavior he exhibits he truly does out of a perverse love and concern for his brother. He hurts Nardi and Hannah, but it's impossible to hate him because he's trying so hard to make everything better. You can read about him in his story, Dance.

The only quibble I have about this book is the ending. It seems rushed. Cuevas goes into great detail about the obstacles to Hannah's and Nardi's relationship, and then sort of sweeps them away at the end in one dramatic scene. I would have preferred a more resolved finish. I would have liked for Hannah and Nardi to honestly confront their problems together instead of separately with a grande finale."

Click here for the rest of the review.  

This book is very hard to find and rather expensive (the cheapest copy at Amazon is currently $14.95).  But Bliss is well worth that money, in my humble opinion.

 

 

This morning I woke up and found:

• Milo sprawled across the bed parallel to the foot/headboard
• Rosie sleeping on the floor next to me half on her pillow, half on the wood floor
• Max asleep (!) on the other dog bed.

I had to laugh. 

Then Max woke up, plopped Tunie next to my head and asked, "Mom, why did God make pets with beads in their feets?"

That made me chortle and necessitated another discussion of the difference between natural and man-made.  The laughs continued when he told me he had blood in his nose.  I looked at him, didn't see anything, and told him so.  He said, "It's deep, deep, deep up there, so deep you can't reach it or see it."

"Then I guess we won't worry about it," I said, trying to maintain my serious, concerned demeanor - and failing. 

I've been reading Kathleen Gilles Seidel's new book, Keep Your Mouth Shut and Wear Beige, which is partly about the changes in family dynamics that come with marriage and divorce and partly about perfectionism/competition between women to prove who's most deserving.  The thing is, the affluent lifestyle of the characters in this book is making me feel a bit like my lifestyle doesn't measure up.  I found this to be true as well with her last book, A Most Uncommon Degree of Popularity.  It's not just that these people have more money than I will likely ever have, it's that they're all on the career fast track and they're lives are packed full of enrichment activities.  And they all have great skills and talents.  

My life just does not measure up, I'm feeling.  Ironic, isn't it, that I'm getting this feeling from a book that's about how pointless competition is between women?  I think her earlier books were a little more accessible for the common folk like me. 

In any case, today I was hanging out my laundry on the line and thinking about this.  I really like hanging out my laundry.  I feel like I'm saving money (and the Earth!) and while I'm doing it, I go into sort of a zen state, stooping and gathering and hanging and pinning and stooping again.  Yet there are some places, some higher-brow neighborhoods than mine, where laundry lines aren't even allowed (!) as they are not considered "aesthetic" enough.  (Did you know there is even a Right to Dry movement?)

So I'm pinning and my mind begins to flow into a mental rant about how "nice" everything has to be now.  Everything has to match and it all has to be brand new and brand specific.  Your living room has to have sofa sets (or antiques and tasteful original art), the walls have to be painted with a color coordinated with the dining room.  The sheets on the bed have to be match the duvet color and the pillowcases and the throws.  And it's better if all that matches the towels in the adjoining bath.  The yard has to be landscaped.  Planting flowers in pots or window boxes and maintaining the bushes in the front yard doesn't cut it anymore.   The seats in the car have to be leather.  As do your shoes - Italian leather. 

Like all cheap underachievers out there, I have to say I find all of this annoying.  Not that there shouldn't be beauty, but that there's the expectation that everyon else has to keep up.   My grandparents' house - I remember it fondly - had nothing that matched.  The sofas were made of naugahyde, the kind that left a pattern on the backs of your legs when you stood up.  The pictures had been acquired one at a time, mostly via gifting.  There was this cool plant holder made of little fruit beads - cherries, apples, pears, bananas.  I thought it was beautiful.  There were also fruit magnets on the fridge, but they didn't really match.  (My grandfather was a fruit farmer, so fruit was kind of the "unifying motif" in as much as there was a unifying motif - which there wasn't, really.)  The beds were old, but not antique.  The ones in the bedroom my sister and I used were metal, and they bounced something fierce when you jumped on them.  The homemade bookcase upstairs kept you from falling to your death down the steep steps, and it was filled with an old jumble of books no one read.  And flannel graph materials for a variety of Bible stories.  The bathroom downstairs smelled like Rose Milk.  I loved that house.   You could really play there, and no one had an anxiety attack about the carpet or the upholstery.  

Any magazine or home decor show today would mock the crap out of their house, but I thought it was homey and welcoming.   My grandparents played dominoes and UNO with us at the kitchen table and popped popcorn on the stove there, in that kitchen with the metal cabinets.  I don't necessarily want the same decor for my house today, but I want the freedom to choose stuff I like (and can afford) and not worry if it's fashionably correct or goes exactly with the carpet.  I want my home to be homey, to seem like real people live here, not superpeople who naturally repel grease, dirt, and tacky knick-knackery with their powers.

I don't care if my lawn has perfect grass, I don't mind driving an old car, and I don't want to keep up with the Joneses, in either careers or acquisitions.  I like hanging my underwear and towels out on the line.  It's homey.  I just wish that were okay today.  The pressure is getting to me.

My neighbor, Amber, and I have been planning to do a little gardening together for about a month now.  We've been waiting for the possibility of overnight frost to pass.   My block is part of a three-block triangle that has a bit of common land behind the houses in the center.  J. and I own 1/17th of this common area as per our deed, but we've never used it because we don't have access to it.  Our yard is fenced and there is no gate in the far back of it.  But Amber's yard flows seamlessly into this common area, and she wanted to do a little vegetable gardening this summer.  When I heard that, I offered my help.  I'm not an experienced gardener, really, but my parents and grandparents had gardens.  My grandparents actually had a ginormous garden with everything under the sun in it.  I remember loving all the produce that came out of it in the summertime.  A little bit of gardening knowledge passed via osmosis to my brain, enough to know stuff like don't plant 15 cucumber plants unless you want to start a pickle factory and spent all of August canning.  That kind of stuff.  And one summer in my twenties I set up a community garden for a community of refugee Bosnians who wanted to get their fingers in the soil and grow stuff.  I liaised with a garden initiative and got a church to donate the land for the plots, but the Bosnians didn't need any help from me as to the gardening itself.  They really knew their stuff.  I learned a lot from them, though probably a good deal of it has sifted out of my mind since 1996.

In any case, Amber took me up on my offer so I went down to the basement to look at my gardening reference section.   There I found Square Foot Gardening by Mel Bartholomew.  This book is great if you want to garden in a limited space or in raised beds or pots.  It shows you how to use your space most efficiently, what to plant next to each other, and when to plant what.  For the last week I've been gathering seeds and plants, and we took them all out to the garden we'd measured and grided out (Amber really did that) and planted them yesterday.  I'm pretty excited about doing this.  I love seeing things grow.  I love the taste of fresh home-grown tomatoes, and I want to see how well the garden does and what the possibilities in that growing space are.  I'm also looking forward to getting to know my neighbor better.  

Of course, despite the prep work and the lovely weather, all didn't go exactly smoothly.  Max wanted to help and I had to work actively to keep him from trampling or over watering all the plants.  Milo got upset that he was left behind in the yard and dug a hole underneath the fence, escaped and had to be recovered.  It was a bit of a circus.  It's hard to concentrate on what to plant next to the broccoli for complementary effect when your kid is demanding every five seconds that you cut more string so he can tie more "grid" or your puppy balks at being contained, but, in the end, the work got done.  Some days I feel like I'm losing my marbles:  what's 112 inches divided by two?  Uh, wait...it'll come to me...when I don't have to worry about where Max is...he was here just a second ago...    Other days I know those marbles are gone - bought and sold on Ebay and now in a collection in Santa Fe.  Good-bye to those math skills, hello to being able to tie shoes and remember Dora the Explorer lyrics at the same time.  

Anyway, here are some pics:

Perusing my blog tonight, J. mentioned that having to scroll past my Shelfari every time was getting old.  so I've moved it to the bottom of the page.  I will probably highlight it periodically when there are more new titles.  But for now - you wanna see it, scroll waaay down.   Or go here .

A Very Long Engagement Sebastien Japrisot Historical Mystery  1993 Rating: A

 

"Sébastien Japrisot, French author and screenwriter, was the anagrammatic pseudonym of Jean-Baptiste Rossi, a writer from Marseille. His work is very well known in France, and A Very Long Engagement was a huge hit when it was published there over a decade ago. I, of course, had to find this out via Google as I hail from the Midwest and had never heard of him before I picked up this book. But what a treat I found: an intricately woven mystery-cum-historical-novel full of period flavor and examination of war and its aftereffects.

On January 6, 1917, five soldiers condemned for self-mutilation were marched to the French front and tossed into No Man’s Land with their hands tied behind their backs. It was night, it was cold, the Germans were huddling with their machine guns just across the way, and some highly placed French officials – no doubt drinking wine with dinner in their warm quarters far, far from any front – wanted these men to disappear into the crevasse of war without their having to waste any bullets on them. Manech, a boy old enough to go to war but too young to marry, was one of these five. His fiancée, Mathilde Donnay, received word of his death several months later, but refused to believe it. She continued to hope that he was alive somewhere, hope that she would find him again, hope without reason to hope...until one day another soldier sends for her and gives her the end of a torn and tattered thread of information that leads back to a trench called Bingo Crépuscule and what really happened there one snowy, miserable evening.

A Very Long Engagement begins with the sad fate of Manech and his four compatriots, but it is really the story of Mathilde’s search for truth. Sergeant Daniel Esperanza, who is dying and no longer has anything to lose, gives her his version of the events of that night and some letters he has from the condemned men. Reading through the letters, Mathilde finally has the basis to start asking questions and she will not quit until she has the answers, no matter who she has to track down to find them.

This novel is an interesting blend of dark and light. War as subject matter is quite bleak indeed, both for the soldiers and for the families they left behind. Japrisot doesn’t spend any ink on patriotic sentiment, either. The enemy – the Germans - is portrayed realistically, as those caught up in something horrible that is bigger and more powerful than they are. Most of the French soldiers have abandoned trying to understand the war and would be happy to just go home if people in charge could just see reason. The condemned men are pitied. Their punishment is barbaric; no one wastes breathe calling them traitors. Survivors of the war rarely come back whole. Both limbs and minds are lost in the violence.

Yet Japrisot narrates his tale in such a dry, wry, ironic way that the reader can’t help but be entertained at the same time. He plays with language in clever ways. Many of his characters view the world through a sort of satirical lens that allows for comic, sometimes even bawdy, observation, which lightens the tone of the novel considerably.

Mathilde is an interesting heroine, not at all in the romance novel mold. She’s rather crotchety, in fact, and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Physically hampered from a fall as a young child, she mounts her quest to find Manech from a wheelchair, but utterly discounts her disability. She is paralyzed, but this fact is of no interest and almost no impediment to her. Everyone around her – family, friends, mere acquaintances - either caves or caters to her singular will. She is organized, methodical, and relentless. And she catches any tiny discrepancy of information with her piercing eye. She is devoted to Manech, but otherwise utterly unsentimental. Here are her thoughts during one family dinner:

She is seated at one end of the large table, facing her father, whom she loves with all her heart. To her left, Mama, whom she loves dearly. To her right, her brother Paul, who is rarely in her thoughts but whom she finds tolerable, and her frumpy sister-in-law, Clémence, whom she finds intolerable. The two monsters, Ludovic and Bastien, eight and six years’ worth of nastiness, have long since gone off to wet their beds.

Within the course of the novel many secondary characters flit on and off stage, and most of these seem far more colorful and dimensional than the main characters in any number of novels I could mention. They come from all walks of life and serve to flesh out the historical period nicely. Notable are Célestin Poux, “The Terror of the Armies,” who procured anything and everything for the men in his regiment, and Tina Lombardi, a woman who would do anything for the love of a wastrel soldier. Many stories of love, war, and heartbreak are interwoven into Mathilde’s quest as she hunts for clues by nosing around into the remnants of other people’s lives.

However well-plotted and interesting A Very Long Engagement is, it must be said that it’s a book that requires something of a commitment. The reader must pay attention while reading. Clues are imbedded everywhere. Japrisot pushes the story forward by means of these clues and Mathilde’s interpretation of them, but he relies on the reader to keep up. Rarely does he reiterate a clue or highlight an important past conversation to aid the reader. Also all of the characters names are French, and most of them are rather foreign-sounding to the American ear. Many of the characters have nicknames as well or are referred to by profession or hometown, such as “that peasant from the Dordogne.” It’s a little tough to keep everyone and their stories straight. Even on my second reading, I was tempted to use post-it notes to refer back to as the mystery unfolded.

Readers who like mysteries, different eras, unique characters, bossy heroines, or love stories will find a great deal to enjoy in A Very Long Engagement."

Click here for the rest of the review.   This book is available very cheap at half.com . 

 

 

...because not that much has been going on.  Let's see, what's happened? 

Milo's casualties include:

• a wooden block watermelon of Max's
  
• another wooden block
• a foam block
• the day lily flowerbed adjacent to the house
• the grass in the backyard
  
• an inestimable number of yogurt cups and Dutch tupperware containers
• my melon-colored rain jacket
  
• my summer sandals

That's puppies for you.  There are also muddy dog tracks all over the floors in every room, and I've basically just given up on the idea of having clean floors.  I clean them, and then there are more tracks.  So I'm surrendering.  The dogs win.  

Max is almost to the end of his first year of preschool.  He finally warmed up to the other kids around spring break time.  I'm not sure he will miss it during summer hiatus, but I sure will.  He has started to use "going" in many of his sentences to help along the verb, but pronounces it "goown."  He also likes to talk about how he's "goown" to "bahry" something from someone:  "Tante said I could bahry this car and bring it back next week."  

Max has discovered the joys of cutting paper.  In my house over the past few weeks there have been literally hundreds of small pieces of scrap paper here and there and everywhere as Max has created Batman costumes for Tunie with tape and paper, or made cars out of paper for Tunie to ride in, or just cut unidentifiable stuff up and stuck it back together.  The upside of this is that he can spend hours doing it.  The downside is the mess.  I've decided the means justify the end.  

I watched the last episodes of The Office and Medium and the second-to-the-last episode of House, and loved them all.   I really enjoyed the dynamic between Michael and Holly Flax, the new HR person (Is she going to be a permanent fixture?  I hope so.).  It would be pretty funny to see someone actually "get" him.  Someone besides Dwight, I mean, though Dwight doesn't actually "get" anyone.  And I loved the Kevin-is-slow prank.  Too funny.  I wasn't even upset that there wasn't a good proposal.  It was enough to see things get really messy with Dwangela again.  

I really hope that if there is a spin-off of The Office, they will take Andy and no one else.  I need everyone else to stay and be at Dunder Mifflin, Scranton.  

In other news, I got my sister hooked on Veronica Mars.  About 3 years too late for it to do any good at all.  But it's fun talking to her about it and watching her guess what might happen.   I can't wait until she gets to the end of season one.  There is that gasp! moment in the final episode I want to see her react to.  

I re-read Blubber by Judy Blume and was suprised to see how much of an involved partner the main protagonist, Jill Brenner, was in poor Linda's torture.  I hadn't remembered that.  I also didn't remember the Chinese best friend or the Bar Mitzvah, but kudos to Blume for being so multi-cultural waaaaay back in 1974.   I thought the ending, where Jill stands up to the bullies and they back down, was a little too easily done, but the female middle school bitchiness was just spot on.  I still have dreams about the girls I went to school with way back when, and they are not good ones.  

Oh, and our neighbors cut down almost all the trees in their backyard, and since our backyard now gets a ton more sunshine, I'm thinking about planting grapevines - the Concord grape sort.   The ones I've tentatively chosen are called Alwood grapes.   They grow in our agricultural zone, in a variety of soils, and ripen earlier than Concord grapes.  I've wanted to grow fruit in our yard for awhile, but it was far too shady to attempt it.  We'll see how it goes.    On a related note tomorrow I start working on the garden I'm doing with that same neighbor.   Should be interesting.  I'm not even sure what we're going to grow, but I'm pretty sure there will be tomatoes, grape tomatoes (if they can be found), watermelon, and greens.  The rest doesn't matter so much, as I hate to can and have only one chest freezer worth of space to freeze things in.  Basically, I just like to work in the soil, hope to get to know my neighbor better, and love fresh produce 'round about August.

Last, but certainly NOT least, garage sale season has started with a bang!  I've already found some great clothes for Max, a carrying case for our video camera, several puzzles and games to play with Max, books, dog stuff, fabric, dollhouse furniture, a little sleeping bag that to go along with Max's backyard tent, and all kinds of great stuff.  I love garage sale season!

 

Ender's Game Orson Scott Card Science Fiction  1977 Rating: B

 

Ender's Game has been in my TBR pile for quite a long time.  I picked it up at a garage sale, I think.  I'd heard good things about it, but really had no idea what it was about, so it sat on my dresser for many months, ready for the right reading moment.  I'm not entirely sure this was it, but it certainly was an out-of-the-ordinary read, at least for me.  

Ender Wiggin is a third, a child allowed to be born because of the extraordinary genetic ability of his siblings, Peter and Valentine.  Both Peter and Valentine are brilliant, but neither of them has what it takes to make it in Battle School, according to those who monitor children as possible enlistees for the International Fleet (IF).  Peter is too cruel and sadistic, and Valentine is too kind-hearted.  Having monitored him for years, the IF determines that six-year-old Ender has what it takes only after he manages to take out a bully with extreme physical punishment.  Ender is taken by space ship to Battle School and his education is directly supervised by Colonel Graff who decides that isolating Ender from his peers will create in him a leader who is capable of fighting the buggers - a race of aliens who have attacked Earth twice and whom humans have only barely succeeded in fending off.  

So begins Battle School.  Ender is immediately singled out by Graff as being the most brilliant and promising of his peers which sets him up for a new round of bullying.  When that fails to destroy him, he is promoted to work with older kids far ahead of him in training.  Each time Ender succeeds, he is thrown into a new challenging and brutal situation to test his abilities of strategy and leadership.  And he does succeed.  He has a knack for seeing possibilities, using non-traditional strengths, and for working with people of all abilities.  But with each round of "promotion," he grows lonelier and more weary, as it becomes clear to him that he can never win a game where the rules change constantly to suit the purposes of the IF.  Ender also grows to despise his own abilities when they result in violence, even when the violence is inevitable and not of his making.  He can't help but wonder if it is worth becoming a leader capable of saving humanity if his own personal humanity is destroyed in the process.

Ender is a sympathetic protagonist.   It perhaps strains credulity to believe a six-year-old is capable of the analysis and decision making Ender displays, but then he is a genius, and this is science fiction.  It is easy for the reader to sympathize with his numerous predicaments because bullying is so universally experienced, as is the experience of being in over one's head.  Ender just deals with it all so much better than anyone else would.  He is a very strong character and his observations about dealing with peers, with authority, with entrenched hierarchical systems seem wise and true.  He behaves the way we all wish we would if we were thrown into such a terrible trial - without resorting to bullying, respecting the weak, acknowledging authority while at the same time holding a mirror up to its innate flaws.  It is quite satisfying to see him always ahead of weaker people in positions of more power.  

However, despite how interesting Ender's education is, it also has a very dark side.  As Ender learns to lead, he becomes capable of almost mechanically destroying anything threatening him.  While he knows survival is an innate urge, he also sees what this process is doing to him and begins to hate himself and wonder if he is not like his older brother Peter inside - cruel and frightening.  At a certain point in the book the reader learns how successful Graff et. al. have been, and it is a bit of a shocking realization what they have done to a nice little boy.  From there the novel only gets darker and darker as Card examines what price winning wars extracts from the winners.  

The violence in Ender's Game is not graphic, but since it frequently involves children, it is disturbing and sad.  This is an engrossing read, but it's certainly not light and does provoke a certain amount of uncomfortable thought.  As the plot progresses and Ender's sanity is further and further strained, it becomes harder and harder to read.  I can recommend Ender's Game as an original novel with a subject worthy of contemplation, but it's unlikely that I will re-read it or go on in the series. 

The Book Thief Markus Zusak Young Adult Fiction 2006 Rating: A

 

"Liesel Meminger is a young German girl who's been dealt a rather awful hand by life. The Nazis came for her father, a communist, and, likewise branded and also ailing, her mother finds it too difficult to care for Liesel and her brother, Werner. So they travel to Molching, a small town outside of Munich, where a foster family has been found for the children. Only Death finds them on the train and spirits Werner away, so it is only Liesel who comes to live with Hans and Rosa Hubermann.

The Hubermanns live on Himmel Street, one of the poorest streets in Molching. Money dried for them after Hans failed to become a party member; he gets most of his income playing his accordion in the local tavern. Rosa also takes in washing. But though they are poor – and Rosa rather abrasive – the Hubermanns have good hearts. Liesel soon begins to blossom under their care. She learns to read and, in searching out more stories, begins a quiet and steady career of book thievery. Just one every now and then – something saved from a book burning or a volume stolen from the mayor's house. Thieving, Liesel finds, is a way of taking something back. Something from Hitler, something from despair, something from Death. But Death will find his way back to her. He will dance around her...he will become slightly obsessed with Liesel Meminger and her story…

Knopf's book is hard to sum up in a paragraph or two. Liesel's story stretches over four years and touches on many things: growing up, Nazi Germany, Jews, rebellion, resistance, war, poverty, grief, friendship, family, and books. It's about survival. In many ways it's about death and how unexpected it is even when one might have cause to expect it. Mostly, though, it's about love – Liesel's love of reading, of her friends Rudy Steiner and Max Vandenburg, and her love for the Hubermanns.

The most interesting aspect is the story's narration – Death does it. He is a sensitive narrator, poetic, detail-oriented, and amusing. He punctures the flow of his storytelling with various facts, definitions of words, or lists of important points, highlighting what the reader should pay attention to in a very conversational way. Few authors use the omniscient point of view these days; it can be distancing for the reader. Indeed, Death does maintain a certain objectivity. This is just one story of many for him. Yet none of the characters seem flat, and the emotions they feel shine through. Even Death's emotions are revealed in the telling – he is not unaffected by Liesel or her story.

In crafting The Book Thief Zusak made a number of clever inclusions. There are several stories within the main story, and they are fantastically illustrated in a way that adds a great deal of texture to the larger story. Zusak's prose is lovely and often more poetry than straight prose, but he also uses metaphor and symbolism wonderfully. And the book circles back on itself, revealing and clarifying events, in way that rather demands rereading.

Since I am writing this review for a romance-reading audience, I must include a few caveats, the most important being: the book is very sad. There is no happily ever after, and several very beloved characters do die. I cried a lot. Things also end rather abruptly, though this is rather mandated by the book's omniscient point of view – Death can only tell so much, only what he personally experiences and reads in Liesel's handwriting. Also, the story is a bit baffling in the beginning. It takes a while for Liesel's story to begin and for Zusak's very poetic writing to settle into an easier-to-process narrative style.

Many readers will be turned off by the above caveats, but The Book Thief is more than worth risking an emotional response for. Zusak's descriptions of a childhood in Nazi Germany were absorbing. So many World War II stories center around the Holocaust. This one adds another layer and shows that suffering wasn't limited to those the Nazis sought to invade or destroy. For that reason and for all the ones I outline above, I highly recommend The Book Thief."

Click here for the rest of the review. 

 

 

After reading about Wendy's experience being hacked, I decided today was the day I was going to beef up my wireless security.  I'd been putting this off for two months because I knew it was going to be a PITA, and, yes, it definitely was.  I, of course, am a computer amateur.  I set up my own router and modem, but Linksys's online instructions for making my network secure were so intimidating that I figured I could do it some other time.  Today was that other time.

I don't think professionals have to deal with puppies biting their feet while they are doing online security installation.  And I don't think they have kids looking through encyclopedia sets and asking, "Mom, what animal starts with the letter S?  Snake?  Where are the snakes in this book.  I can't find the snakes.  Can you find the snakes.  Mom, I'm looking at all the pages, but there aren't any snakes.  Oh, there they are.  Thanks for finding them...Mom, what animal starts with the letter B?  Beaver?  Where are the beavers in this book?"  Etc., etc., etc.  I don't know if this is true, but I imagine professional computer people know how the software operates and can work fairly distraction free.  

I tried resetting the security options online but could not connect to the site they suggested.  Which meant I had to use the CD-ROM they included with the router.  But it wasn't immediately clear which option on said CD-ROM would take me where I wanted to go.  So I wasted about an hour fiddling around before I found something useful.  In the meantime, between long pauses while the computer was "working," I changed all my online passwords and converted a 3-tier password system to a 5-tier one (with a few extras).  This necessitated recording these passwords since there was no way I could remember all the strange number, capitalization, and extra character passwords I made up by myself.  

Finally, I got the network security the way I wanted it.  Then I couldn't get my laptop to establish a wireless connection.  I wound up using the Microsoft wireless assistant to re-connect there, but am now getting a bunch of error messages from Linksys ("Network Problem!  The connection to the Router is not working."  Which begs two questions:  How can this be when I'm working online right now?  And why is Router capitalized?) , so when Max finally goes to sleep, I'll be trotting upstairs again to see if I can troubleshoot again.  He's almost there, but like every night, he's fighting it, and if he hears me leave this room, he'll start asking questions and getting up out of bed again.  Argh.  It's just easier to stay put for a little while longer.  

So.  My brain hurts.  I'll try to get a review up by Wednesday, but other than that, I've only got plans to sleep. 

So that couple I mentioned awhile back - the one that was looking at our profile? - they didn't pick us.  I'm not sure what happened, but the social worker on the other end took nearly three weeks to tell us this news. 

I am feeling rejected.   And dejected.  And discouraged.  And about ready to give up.  Right now, I feel pretty certain this isn't going to happen for us.  And to add further complication, I'm not even sure I want it to.  Max has been bouncing on my last nerve for days.  Weeks.  I think this is partly because, with the longer days as we near the summer solstice, he's getting so much less sleep, and, therefore, I'm getting so much less sleep.  And the days with Max are, therefore, lengthening too.   He is so loud, bossy, and demanding; he gives me the Dwight hard sell on everything, just everything.   Yesterday I took him garage sale-ing with me, and he was talking a steady stream, trying to get me to buy this, that, and the other thing.  It was kind of cute:  "Mom, look at this teapot.  Our teapot is white and kinder borin'.  This one is all colorful and nice.  It's blue.  It's much better.  Let's get it.  Can we buy it?  Okay, we're getting it.  Let's go!"  

This, admittedly, is kind of cute, but two hours of non-stop hard sell wears on your brain.  It gets so you can't think anymore.  Sometimes I can't remember things with effort that just a few years ago would have come instantly to mind.

Today in the car Max's routine wasn't so funny.  Halfway to my parents' house, Max's seatbelt came unbuckled.  I'm on the highway going 55, about to enter a 70 mph zone, and he's yelling from the backseat his predicament.  So I'm mentally trying to solve this problem, drive in traffic, and he's giving me a constant top-of-his-voice monologue: "MOM!  MY SEATBELT IS UNBUCKLED!  STOP THE CAR!  WHAT IF WE GET IN AN AKSERDENT!?!  I COULD GET DEAD!  I'M NOT SAFE BACK HERE!"  Over and over and over and over.

I'm just tired.  I feel like a loser for saying this, but some days having one kid kicks my ass.  I must be personally deficient.  I don't know how moms with batches of kids do it.  Maybe this couple who didn't pick us sensed this from our profile, and that's why they didn't pick us.  

I thought I'd mention a couple of sites I've been interested in lately.  One is The Great Sunflower Project.  There has been more than a bit of public concern lately that the bee population is drastically declining.  Since bee pollination is responsible for the successful production of a third of the crops we eat, obviously it is in our interest to examine the problem and find solutions if possible. 

People participating in The Great Sunflower Project will be planting sunflowers and monitoring and recording bee visits to those flowers.  It isn't very hard.  Instructions and free seeds are available on the site.  Max and I will plant and watch for bees and photograph them if/when they show up.  I thought it might be a fun little unit study for us to do this summer and it's for the good of science and humanity!  I myself could barely live without fruit, so I'm all for bees sticking around.

The second site is Catalog Choice.  This is a website that's dedicated to eliminated unwanted catalog mail.  I signed up for it a few months ago, and my mailbox has been emptier.  This would seem to be a win-win proposition for everyone - fewer catalogs to sort through and less to recycle for me, as well as fewer trees chopped down and made into unwanted commercial advertisements.  Of course, merchants might not be so happy, but I have to wonder what the sell-thru rate is for all those catalogs and if it's even worth the printing/mailing costs.  Personally, I almost never buy through that venue, but as anyone knows, if you buy once, you get catalogs forever and other people you never bought from somehow get your name and send you more catalogs for crap you were never even slightly interested in.    

In any case, these are little things that can make a difference for the environment and require little effort from the individual at all.  Just thought I'd mention them.   

We are almost halfway through May, and I have yet to record a single book into my reading database for this month.  I worked my way through the first half of Meredith Duran's Duke of Shadows, but stalled in the middle.  I've been working on Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card for so long now that I don't have a choice - it will have to be my TBR Wednesday book .  I'm unlikely to start and finish anything else by the 21st at this rate. 

I don't know what is with me.  Yes, I've been busy with family things for Mother's Day.  Yes, I've been playing too much Packrat.  Yes, all my videos in my library queue came in at one time.  But, man, I don't even really want to read.  I don't have even a single book checked out of the library.

And that's not like me.  

Till the Stars Fall Kathleen Gilles Seidel Book 1994 Rating: A

 

"Kathleen Gilles Seidel is amazing. Why she is not better known and more widely read is a complete mystery. Her books are masterpieces of characterization and storytelling, filled with clever observations and the flavor of real life. Till the Stars Fall is my favorite book by her yet. It showcases all of her considerable talent and makes for a truly engrossing read.

The principle players in this story are three, not two. Danny and Krissa French are siblings close in age but not in feeling. The children of a Minnesotan miner, they edge into the Ivy League through hard work and determination. Once there, Danny encounters Quinn Hunter, son of the Establishment. Seemingly the two have little in common, but soon Quinn and Danny find they have a mutual interest in music. They both want to sing. Dodd Hall, the folk rock sensation of the Seventies, is born and soon flourishes.

Krissa is essential to Dodd Hall's success as well. Both Quinn and Danny rely heavily on her - first to help them break into the music business, and then, once they've arrived, to keep them sane and communicating. The problem is, somewhere in Dodd Hall's meteoric rise to the top, Krissa begins to find her role stifling, and she opts out. Out of Dodd Hall, out of her relationship with Quinn, out of her established life. She returns to Minnesota and starts over.

Sixteen years later, as Krissa is waiting to hear the results of her brother's political hunger strike, she gets a call from Quinn who is likewise concerned about Danny. Only now all of the things that interfered with their relationship in the Dodd Hall days no longer have any relevance. Both of them, still emotionally tied to each other, wonder, "Can we make it work this time?"

This is a second chance at love story, and is extremely well done, perhaps because it's so inclusive. All three characters must push past their regrets. Danny and Quinn have very unresolved feelings for each other. Once they were closer than brothers, like two sides of the same coin. But Dodd Hall broke up badly, and they no longer communicate at all. Still the feelings, the memories, and the music are still there. Quinn and Krissa in some ways have it easier because both of them are more mature and less reactive than Danny. But Danny does manage to complicate their relationship as well: Krissa has always wondered whether, given the choice, Quinn would choose Danny over her.

Danny, Quinn, and Krissa are fully fleshed and interesting characters. Danny is the least likable. He's manipulative, blunt, and insensitive, but charismatic and compelling, nonetheless. Krissa is strong and clings to her identity and independence with everything she has. Quinn writes a series of songs, the Cinnamon songs, out of love for her, the Cinnamon Haired Girl. It is easy to see what he so admires in her. In her own quiet way, Krissa runs the show and keeps all of them on track.

As for Quinn, he's simply wonderful - the stuff of fantasy - handsome, magnetic, courtly, intelligent, sensual. He writes love poems and short stories. He plays the guitar and the piano. He's a most appealing hero. Those readers who enjoy Joan Wolf's heroes will find Quinn irresistible. He's cut from the same cloth.

The story itself is very absorbing, and the Seventies music angle is original. Seidel switches back and forth between the past and the present, paralleling scenes, revealing the smaller details of Dodd Hall's breakup a little at a time. Interspersed with the narrative are little interviews with band members, reviews of albums and concerts, and other articles about Dodd Hall. These are cleverly done and reveal a bit more about Danny, Krissa, and Quinn than pure narrative might.

Honestly, I don't have a single quibble with this book. Occasionally, Seidel's characters come off as a little cool, a little too composed and self-aware. Not here. All three characters are fully human, and this book is quite a bit more sensual than most of Seidel's other books. Quinn is most definitely not cold or remote. Sexual tension is quite high at times between Krissa and him. Once scene in particular, in which Quinn sings her a song he has written for her, fairly sizzles with sexual undercurrents.

This book has so many high points - beautiful, lyrical writing, fascinating characters, an interesting time and setting, a touching renewed romance - that it would be a shame to miss it."

Click here for the rest of the review. 

This book is out of print, but available very cheap at half.com.