Who needs a sorting hat?

Judy's been reading her way through the Harry Potter series this week, and I'm back to avoiding washing my face at night. (Or ever, really.)

Why?

Because A) She had never read the HP books and they are freaking amazing, and B) My face peels off every time soap and water touches it.

I'm not even kidding.

Behold:

                                                         

See the splotchy cheeks and forehead? Yeah... that's all new baby skin. (Don't worry that I'm not smiling here because the mouth sores on my gums make it hard for me to move my mouth - even into a smile. It's a real party.)

Ya know how when you get a sunburn and it turns to a tan and you think you've survived the peel, just to have your skin pill up when you towel off after a shower three days later? Well, that's what my face is doing these days. Every time warm/hot water gets anywhere near it. ... Makes me crazy. The assumption is that it's because of the steroids they give me with the chemo. My face stretches to maximum capacity by the morning of day three, and it takes about a week for the swelling to go all the way down. (Just in time for the mouth sores to come along and make my face swell up again. Ha!) Anyway, the guess is that the stretched-out-steroid face + the burns from the chemo (you should see how red my face gets during treatments... it's wicked) = this new skin condition that's constantly causing the old/damaged skin to slough off and be replaced with baby pink skin.

On the one hand, this could be considered a bonus. Like, I'm getting a "free" chemical peel with every round of chemo. 

On the other, I feel a little bit like a snake shedding her skin. The upside? My eyes haven't turned red, a la Voldemort's. So, I guess that's a good sign. (Fingers crossed that my new snake face doesn't automatically make me a Slytherin. ... Anyone who knows me knows that I'd so rather be in Gryffindor with the Weasley twins.)

Kindred Spirits

As many of you know, I am a lover of the written word. I mean, Lover with a capital L. ... One might even go so far as to say, LOVER in all-caps.

I heart words.

I love to write. I love to read. (I've been known to read the dictionary. ... Not kidding. Literally, pick up the dictionary and read a page, just to learn new words. Dictionary.com is one of my favorite sites, because they give sample sentences and etymology for everything.)

I'll read just about anything, but my very favorite genre is (are?) memoirs.

I enjoy both fiction and non-fiction alike. A well-told story is a thing a beauty to me. ... But a memoir? Oh, be still my beating heart! There is NOTHING that I love like the way I love hearing a person's story as told in their own words.

Right now, I am reading - and loving - My Life in France, by Julia Child (with Alex Prud'homme).

I feel it important to note that this book was gifted to me by the lovely Kathy U, the only woman I know who might love food more than I do. That she would send me Julia Child's memoir is so fitting, I have no words. I love Kathy. I love Julia. I love butter - and so do they.

From page 136:

"We experimented with recipes, tools, and ingredients, and made several useful discoveries. In working on piecrusts, for instance, we had tested French versus American ingredients. To our horror, we discovered that French flour has more body than its U.S counterpart, and that the French needed a third less fat to make a nice crumbly crust. Why was this? I wanted to know. We supposed that, in order for U.S. flour to last forever on supermarket shelves, it must have been subjected to chemical processes that removes its fats. The French flour, in contrast, was left is its natural state, although it would go "off" more quickly and become maggoty. In order to make our French recipe work for an American audience, we tested different proportions of flour-to-butter, flour-to-margarine (a substance I abhorred and referred to as "that other spread") and flour-to-Crisco; then we tasted the crusts hot and cold. Based on our experiments, we adjusted our ratios. It was labor-intensive, but a thoroughly satisfying learning process."

Ahhhh... Julia did science experiments with food and abhorred margarine. We're basically twin souls.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this book. Julia Child had an incredible memory for detail, and tells a lovely, lilting story of her life with Paul.

I feel compelled now, more than ever, to buy The Book (her name for the cookbook). ... But first, I must get back to reading. I'm about 50 pages from the end, and I have a good half hour to kill before I must leave the house and be about my daily business.

Bon Appetit!

October 1

It is October, people!

Let the Birthday Month celebrations commence.

And how am I spending the evening of October 1st, you ask?

Reading my new book.

Behold:

"That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.”


― Ray Bradbury, The October Country

I love Ray Bradbury. He is my new favorite author. ... Until he scares the pants off me with his creepy stories. Maybe then he won't be my favorite anymore - but he is for now.

I'm off to read. Happy October, ya'll!

September 15

I spent two hours at Changing Hands this morning.

I felt very much like my old self, perusing the Memoir and Cooking sections of the store, crouching down in Fiction, sitting very nearly on the floor, reading titles, synopsese (I'm pretending that's the plural of synopsis), and employee suggestions for various books.

And the angels sang.

Until my body hurt, which made the angels stop singing (and me start muttering things under my breath that I shouldn't say in public - or anywhere, really), which led me to an aisle that had a bench smack in the middle of it that I could sit on whilst reading random pages (sometimes chapters) out of unknown books.

This is what I do in a bookstore; I sit, and I read. I read whole sections out of the middle of books, so I can decide whether or not I like how an author writes. (I usually read the first page, too. But the first page is, almost without fail, excellent. Anyone can craft an opening line/paragraph/dialogue that can kill. But an author who can keep it together at page 261? That's an author I want to read.)

I went in, looking for a particular book for a friend. ... It was the second book I picked up.

At the back of my head, I had thought I would see if they had a copy of Dandelion Wine. (I'd started reading my mom's while I was home last week and the beauty of the language completely sucker punched me.)

Dandelion Wine was the fifth book in my stack.

That's right. I went in to buy one book (to give away). I walked out with five.

I needed four new books like I needed a hole in my head.

Behold:

This is one of three full-to-overflowing bookshelves in my apartment. (And when I say "overflowing", I mean it. I have books stacked two deep filling both the bottom and top shelves. Obviously, I also have books stacked two deep on top of the shelves, towering a good two and a half feet over the book case.)  I have two other bookshelves in similar straights, not to mention books stashed at the left side of my couch, by my recliner, on both sides of my bed and on the kitchen counter.

And yet, I bought four more books today.

I. Can't. Help. Myself.

I love them.

I came home from the bookstore, made myself a snack of bread and crackers and goat cheese and set about reading Dandelion Wine.

Three hours, two catnaps and 180-odd thrilling, beautifully written and glorious pages later, it was finished.

The book, the day and me. We were all finished.

This book. It is a thing of beauty. It is lyrical. It is mesmerizing. It is... Summer.

Spending a Saturday morning in a bookstore was magical for me. I love to get lost in a bookstore. And this morning, I was able to do just that.

And I bought a book (okay, I bought five, but right now I'm talking about this book) about a boy who realized, in the summer of 1928, that he was alive. I can relate.

This book is about living. And loving. And seeing the world and people around you for what they really are: beautiful, wondrous, enchanting. This book is Summer Magic.

This day was a gift. A marvelous, wonderful, incredible gift. To be able to do something I love to do, even for a short while, before pain brought me home, was glorious. To be able to lie down with a new book and read it in an afternoon, with the end of Summer's sun streaming in on me, was heavenly.

I am so grateful. For well-strung words, and for life experience that has taught me, even more, how to appreciate and cherish them. For this book. For this day. For my life.

I'm ready for my real life to begin.

Not that ...erm... I think this life is fake, per se. I was just reminded of a passage in a book.

Several months ago, I was reading a scene in which two women were talking. One woman was in her 70's, the other in her 30's. The older woman made reference to having lived in the same house for over 30 years. The younger woman responded with not being able to imagine staying in the same place for that long. At that point, the older woman asked the younger woman her age. The response was 37. This is the dialogue that followed:

"Ah, thirty-seven." She nods. "It's a wonderful age, isn't it?"

"It is?" Meri flicks the last ash off the cigarette.

"Yes, it is. It's a perfectly balanced age, to my way of thinking. With any luck, you've left foolish youth and vain hopes about your life behind you. You're done with all that kind of pain. But on the other hand, you're still young, you're still strong." She pauses, she looks out over the front yard, then back at Meri. "Ready for real life to begin."

Real life. ... I don't know what that means, exactly. But I do know about foolish youth and vain hopes. I know pain. Of course, I also know sucess and joy and laughter and love. I can't help but think that the past few years have changed me. Not just my body (which is creaky and old), but also my spirit. I'm happy to be thirty-seven, even if it is a little freaky to be on the edge of "late thirties".

I don't know what's coming, but that conversation in that book has stuck with me. Real life (whatever and wherever you are), I'm headed your way.

I am SUCH a word nerd!

I read this book yesterday:



And this morning, I woke up talking to myself in really big words. For example, instead of walking in circles this morning, I meandered in a circuitous route. (True story. I actually thought those words. I had a sleepover at Jo's last night and woke up early this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Instead of walking my own neighborhood this morning, I left her house shortly after 6:00 and walked myself in circles for an hour until it got too hot to be outside any longer.) And while I was walking in circles, I was thinking in big words. Not intentionally, mind you, but because vocab is contagious, and yesterday I read this incredible book with such wide and glorious language that I am still swimming in words.

Honestly, I do love words. And as a word lover, I so loved Ella Minnow Pea. I mean, I loved it! I laughed out loud at the premise. I giggled at the formal bordering-on-dictionary-needing words used at the beginning of the book. I was intrigued by the way they were able to modify language with the missing letters. I snorted at the spellings of the days/months shown at the top of the letters. I had to read the last few chapters/letters out loud, so I could hear what had been phonetically written, to be sure that I didn't miss even one syllable of what was being said. ... I marveled at the lesson in censorship and totalitarianism, and the dangers thereof, taught eloquently with such a simple tale.

Ah... Words. I love you so. More than anything else in my life.

I love it when I wake up, thinking in big words and still digesting a read from the day before. I can't think of anything I love more than that.

Books are my life.

The End.

PS ~ Many thanks to my girl, Myra, for having sent this book in lieu of flowers when I had surgery last June. Too bad it took me almost a year to read it. (I blame the medically induced lack of attention span, as well as the recent need to take many naps, for my not having gotten around to this book sooner. For shame!)

The End. (Again.)

If you believe in the power of Choice, choose to read this book. Today.

Some of you know my friend Jamie. Most of you don't, but some of you do. (If you don't know him, but you're a frequenter of my blog, you may remember when he helped me get one little bitty step closer to Nathan. Bless him forever and ever. Amen.)

Well, my friend Jamie has written another book. And it, my friends, is FABULOUS. I mean, life-changingly fabulous. (Think: The Last Lecture. Seriously, it's that good.)



And not only is the book itself fabulous, but he is giving copies away to librarians who might not otherwise be able to stock their libraries with this book. Check it out:

http://coppervale.livejournal.com/364942.html

What author gives their book away to schools and children? An author whose mother was a single parent and raised four children on a school teacher's salary, that's who. I love him!

And it doesn't end there, people. The man has pledged to help my fav celebrity boyfriend's charity help kids who need to read.

Read this, it's totally awesome: http://coppervale.livejournal.com/365398.html

Do you see why I love him? Do you see? I love him, because he has a love of the written word, because he is a man of principle who - at the same time - believes in Magic (with a capital M). He wants to share books and money with children, and he's doing it through Kids Need to Read, one of the most awesome charities of all time. (And I'm not just saying that because Nathan Fillion is one of the people behind the organization. Really.)

Please help. Help me help him help children. The book is only $4.99. It's a steal and a half, for an incredibly good cause. And did I tell you that it's one of the best books I've ever read? ('Cause I'm pretty sure that I did. Don't make me do it again.)

Here's the link for the Amazon store: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004VN31NK

And if you don't have an e-Reader to download it to, here's the link for his website (where you can buy it in pdf - then they send you an email with the document that you can downland onto your own computer): http://www.heretherebedragons.net/

Seriously, folks. It's one of the best books. Ever. It's a true story, yet at the same time... Magical.

Go forth and read. Now.

The most recent page turner in my life

I've been a reading lot this week. A lot.

Gosh, it's good to be back.

This is my most recent read.

Oh my word, I love this book! It is fabulous. Incredibly well written, it's a story of 3 women whose lives are intertwined. It's set in Jackson, MI in 1963. Not the best place in time, if you're at all familiar with the territory. (That line totally just made me sing a little ditty from The Music Man. "But you have to know the territory." ... I digress.)

Anyway, this book? It's fabulous. If you haven't read it, you must. I'm telling you, here and now, it's a must read.

Part of why I have loved this book is that it has reminded me to be grateful for the time and place I was raised in, for the tolerance of my parents and those of the friends I grew up with. Having an underlying theme of Racial Intolerance/Segregation, this book has helped me feel so grateful for my life. It has reminded me that not only were the lines between black and white so thick that generations of Americans had a hard time seeing around them, but also that way too many people had to fight and/or die for the equality that they believed in.

One of those killed on the road to Integration was Medgar Evers. If you don't know his name - if you haven't seen this movie - please watch it. Right away. (But maybe not at night. If you're a sissy like me, anyway. I get a little freaked out, and I've seen it loads of times.)




It's a fabulous movie. It's a true story, and very well done. James Woods is pretty much the creepiest bad guy of all time. And an added bonus, it's from 1996, which was back in the days when Alec Baldwin was a treat to behold.

So, basically, what I'm saying is... Read this book. Watch this movie. ... Just in case you have a hard time figuring out what you want to do with your free time these days, I thought I'd boss you around a little. You'll love both of them, I'm sure of it.

The best book I've read in a good, long while

Oh, my word. This book. It was, in a word, amazing. In another, educational. In yet another, humbling. It was the best book I've read in a good, long while.

This book is a first person narrative of a woman diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. It is heartbreaking. It is life affirming. It is poetic, and it is beautiful.

By the end of the third chapter, I was so grateful to have been diagnosed with cancer at 35, and not EOAD at 49. I'm telling you, this book was a great reality check, in that there are numerous things to be grateful for in my life, not the least of which are being able to read and use language. (Oh, how I love words.)

When I got to page 117, I broke down and cried. And then I stopped crying, and I resolved to be stronger and fight harder.

This book changed the way I think, because it pushed me to feel things on a whole new level. It changed who I am. I could not recommend it more highly.

Please, read this book. Please. I loved it.

Oh, what a beautiful morning...

No... not that kind of a beautiful morning. I just can't help but say the words "Oh, what a beautiful morning" without bursting into song. ... And when I sing that song, I think of Curly. And when I think of Curly, I think of Hugh. And then I have to share my thought process with you.

But it wasn't that kind of a beautiful morning. No sirree, no corn as high as an elephant's eye here in sunny AZ. I did, however, go to the store this morning and buy some live herbs. So, that's kind of like corn, in that they're actual food with roots in the ground. Except that instead of having a garden, I just have a plate with two little herb plants on it. But that's good enough for me.

Not that the herbs were the only beautiful part of my morning. Oh, no. I woke up this morning and started a batch of Solomon-esque spaghetti sauce. Yes, that's right, I said Solomon-esque. (Chris and I made dinner for Jo's birthday and I watched Christine re-create Ron's fabulous spaghetti sauce. There are no exact measurements, but I watched and I stirred and I tasted... and I'm quite confident that the batch of spaghetti sauce simmering on my stove is a close facsimile to the Ron Solomon original.) I'm giddy about the sauce. It smells so good here in my little house that I can hardly stand myself.

Also, I went to Barnes & Noble to get a copy of Little Women for my little friend Roomie's birthday party - and I found this.

I've been wanting to read this for a while, I just never got around to ordering it online. When I saw it there, nestled next to Little Women and the complete Jane Austen collection in the bargain classic section, I had to snatch it right up. As I was meandering back to the front of the store (I say meandering, because I'd so rather meander than walk a straight line, esp when I'm in a bookstore that smells of paper and coffee beans), there was announcement that Story Time was starting at 10:00 in the children's section. Story Time. .... Oh, how I love Story Time. If I didn't have spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove here at home, I'd have stayed for the story, I really would have. But alas, the sauce.

But as fabulous as finding out about Story Time was, that wasn't even the best part of the bookstore. As I was checking out, the cashier asked if the Oscar Wilde was for me. I, of course, answered that it was. She smiled and said she hoped I enjoyed it, then told me that Oscar Wilde is her favorite author. I told I was excited to read it, that I'd never read him before. She smiled and then said "I know this sounds a little morbid, but whenever I go to France, I take a book to the cemetery and read by his grave". Oh, my goodness. How fabulous is that? To me, that isn't morbid, it's beautiful. I can't think of a better way to pay homage to an author whom you love (and I told her so, because that's the kind of sappy reader/girl that I am).

Also, I'd like to know how Barnes & Noble employees can afford to go to France on a semi-regular basis. I need a new career plan, obviously. I wonder if B&N is hiring. I could totally read Story Time for them.

On my way out of the store, I almost ran smack into a fabulously good looking man. I should have invited him over for spaghetti, but instead, I just thanked him for holding the door open for me. (In retrospect, he most likely held the door because he was afraid I'd walk right into it. What can I say? I was ruminating about France and cemeteries and Story Time. I get a little caught up.) Anyway...

I love this day!

The End.

What do I love? (Or, rather, whom do I love?)

Answer: friends who know me well enough to buy me the perfect gift. We all know that my latest tv crush is one Mr. Richard Castle ... what not everyone, I'm sure, knows is that ABC actually released the novel, Heat Wave, that has been discussed on this (and last) season of Castle.

Check it - it's a real book. And my friend Christine knew me well enough to know that this was the thing to get me for my birthday. (I so love her!)


And here's my favorite part. This is the head shot from the back of the book - with the author bio. Hahahaha that ABC had a fit of marketing genius and actually released the book, and faked that it was written by Castle, himself. AWESOME!

Oh, gosh, I love my birthday. Oh, gosh, I love Richard Castle. ... This is the best day ever!

The Perfect Day

Please allow me to tell you about my day today...

I woke up at 10:30. (Yeah, I woke up at 10:30. Mind you, I was all kinds of drugged up to be able to sleep past 7:00 - I heart Tylenol PM - but the thing is, I slept until 10:30 AM.)

I got online and checked out my online dating options - and then promptly posted a pic making fun of the 5'4" (I am not making this stuff up, it's so good that I don't have to...) beauty that was checking me out this morning whilst I was asleep in bed. (Again, I cannot say it enough - Tylenol PM. It is the best thing ever.)

I had one and a half bowls of Post brand Honey Bunches of Oats with Almonds for breakfast/lunch (I threw the WalMart brand box away last week and life has been so much better since then... never again will I subject myself to store brand cereal).

I grabbed my new book - The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - and headed to the pool.

And 2.5 hours later, feeling pruny from the pool, toasty from the sun... and awash in emotion (wishing the book could go on forever) ... I finished it. Oh, this is one of the best books I've ever read. It's up there with These Are My Words, folks. I love-love-loved this book! I almost want to read it again - TOMORROW. Oh gosh, it was fab.

Once the book was finished, I had a filling (and uber nutritious, because that's how I roll) dinner of microwave popcorn - then called my friend Myra (who recommended the book, and actually let me borrow her library copy so I could get it read - and soon!) so we could dissect and discuss the book.

Gosh, this has been just about the best day ever. The only (and I do mean only) thing that could have improved this day would be a piece of chocolate cake from Safeway. (And that's saying something.)

I love my life.

The perks of unemployment

So far, the perks of unemployment are a) I was able to leave town for a long weekend (have been hanging out at home with the fam since Friday - eating sugar and partying it up pretty much non-stop), as well as b) I FINALLY have time to read. 

This is my bookclub's book of the month - I've known what it was, and have been wanting to read it, since early October - I just haven't had time. Now, thanks to the FDIC, I have time (and nothing but) ... so, in between downing bowls of ice cream and boxes of Sees chocolates with my parents & sister this weekend... I've been reading (and LOVING) this book. 

I'm so grateful for a respite from work, for a long weekend full of fun & yummy food and... for good books. Oh, how I love to read. It's great to have time to do it again!

Kindred Spirits

I just finished re-reading my book club's book of the month, and I must say... I love this book more than I'd remembered that I did. (And I'd remembered that I loved it quite a bit!) This time it was more poignant than funny, which surprised me. I'd read it beginning to end twice, and little pieces of it at a time over and over again - and always, I'd found it laugh-out-loud hilarious. This time (while it was still funny, don't get me wrong), I found myself pondering my own early childhood more than I previously have. Today I've been relfecting on my early years, on so many of the fantastic and not-so-fantastic things that happened in my own childhood in a small town in the middle of nowhere. I've been incredibly blessed in my life to know a lot of amazing people - and a lot of those people are from home. I'm incredibly grateful for my small-town heritage, for the town that raised me every bit as much as my own parents did.

For any of you out there who haven't read Zippy... do yourself a favor and check her out. Haven Kimmel is a gifted writer. She can write about nothing - compellingly, for 200+ pages at a time. Which, as you can imagine, I think is totally awesome!