Adventures

This is a picture of the kitchen window in our house. Ceci n'est pas une pipe. Let me tell you a story about this window. (I left Moxie's water cup up there as a reference point. A much larger object recently traveled through it.)

When we moved in, I was saddened to discover that very few windows in our house open. How will I listen to the rain? How will I cool down the house? I couldn't figure out how to open this particular window at the time, but it turns out it does open with a little luck, muscle, and desperation.

David & I had planned to take Moxie for a walk to go look at a new house our friends are moving into and also maybe to get some things from the corner store. I can't even tell you how often D lectures me about not taking my keys and wallet with me ANY TIME I LEAVE THE HOUSE, so I expected that he followed his own advice (knowing I wouldn't) and I locked the door behind us.

Much to my surprise, David refused to open the car for me so I could retrieve my coat and scarf. How rude...until he explained that he didn't have his keys. Oh...uh...heh. This realization led to much haranguing - first by him because he hates it when I lock the lock you don't have to have a key for, and then by me because he was being so mean to me, and then by Moxie because she thought we were going to visit her bassett hound friends. 

When I got locked out of my parents' house, there was a garage code. When I was locked out of my OC dorm, I could have the RA let me in. When I was locked out of my HU apartment, I could jimmy my way in using my ID. None of those solutions works for our new house - there isn't a garage, our landlady is rarely home, and I broke a CD trying to get our back lock open. This left one final option - looking for a weak window to take out and breaking in to our own house.

Which is how I found myself, at 23 years old, scrambling on my (crowded) kitchen counter like a spider (where did all these appendages come from and where can they go in this situation?) with David trying simultaneously to support my weight and calm down Moxie, who was whining like a maniac. I guess her delicate puppy brain can't handle strange situations like that. Mine either, dog. Mine either. (Though that may just be because I dinged my head on the windowsill.)

Ooooops!

This guy has all but been abandoned again, poor thing. I just don't know how to (not) quit you, blog.

This is partially because Kaitlyn and Zach got me this wonderful thing for my birthday! It is one of my favorite presents ever. I think it would make the top five things I would save in a fire (#1 Moxie, #2 David ((before you say anything, he is intelligent enough to save himself, whereas Moxie, um, isn't)), #3 Natalia ((macbook)), #4 bibliofile!, #5-infinity all other books in the house). So I've been writing about my books in there instead of writing about them here.

Also, I've been agonizingly busy cleaning out the home of a recently deceased woman for my organizing job. She had a LOT of stuff - fake flowers, thousands of items of clothing, and dozens of bags of unopened/opened mail. That just got wrapped up this week, for the most part, but it's kind of hard for me to tell because I gave my notice for that job and only worked one day this week. I'm now working at...

Barnes and Noble! I'm head cashier, which is like a regular cashier but more important, probably. Nah, not really - I just have to count the money in addition to handling it. But I also get to organize endcaps and such, which will be great fun! I've been dying to work with books my whole life, and if I have to sell my soul to corporate America, fiat (I've started using italics to denote when something isn't in English because I recently read a book that did it and I thought it was ridiculous). And sometimes I like corporate America. Especially Olive Garden.

Here is what Moxie looks like now! She is getting nice and big, which is fine usually, but bad 1) when she climbs on my head and 2) when she gets on my side of the bed, as pictured. President Obama has said that he doesn't let Bo on the bed, but he'll clamber up there and cuddle with Michelle as soon as Barack leaves, and in this respect (as in so many others - we wish) we are just like the Obamas.

It just struck me...

...that for as many times as we think Moxie is doing something crazy (her newest thing is biting and chewing the air), her poor doggy brain thinks the same about us.

For instance, when I started cracking up about something on the internet for a good minute or so, she actually came over and started sniffing me to make sure that I was okay. I love that.

Gone Girl

Hello, is it me you're looking for?

I've hit my inevitable blogging slump. I get tired of writing about every single book I read, don't feel comfortable telling the internet the same client stories I tell D, and am (as you've no doubt discerned) really, really bad at remembering to post pictures of Moxie. (Seriously. Really bad.) She got spayed today, poor thing, poor thing.

I say this to emphasize that this book is so good that I actually want to blog about it. Amy and Nick don't have a very happy marriage, so things get pretty dicey for him when she disappears under mysterious circumstances on their fifth wedding anniversary. (You might read that description and think "That sounds like another trashy murder mystery book in the style of Patterson and Grafton." I know! After I finished bombarding him with plot updates, David made sure to tell me that - just to hurt my feelings, probably). I don't usually read mysteries, but I kept hearing about this book this summer and wanted to know if it was really That Good. 

The consensus is - I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed it for several hours after David went to bed. I enjoyed it every time he left, even if it was just to walk Moxie for five minutes. I let out a mental cheer every time David said he was going to go play Minecraft (very unusual - the cheer, not his nerdiness) because it afforded me more time to devour this book. Gone Girl was different from others of its kind because my theory about what happened was not only incorrect, all of my subsequent theories were also way off the mark. I would love a character, then start to doubt her, then loathe her - or hate her, then feel a little sympathetic, and then root for her. I loved how much this book played with my emotions. I can't wait to check out Flynn's other novels to try and get a little hint of that book obsession back.

Capital

I'm accustomed to reading books that I've known about for months, even years. This summer, I did something I don't normally do - I read books by authors that I'd never heard of before and did not research. I had such an influx of fresh blood books that each one was a surprise - I very quickly forget the plots of books, so it's almost impossible for me to remember the plots of books I've only read a few sentences about. This reading style might be normal for other people, but it felt very foreign and exciting to me.

Perhaps that's why it took me so long (nearly a month!) to finish Capital - I had no idea what to expect. Here's the good news: I enjoyed most of my reading experience. Lanchester did a stunning (as Gordon Ramsay would say - yes, we're still obsessed) job of creating diverse and complex characters, intricately weaving their stories together. What impressed me most was that his characters also had varied roles in the novel, but Lanchester wrote each as though he had just finished writing the gaps of her story in his head, even when the reader hadn't heard from her for a hundred pages or more. I'd be so happy to discover how he maps out his plot, because I'm really astounded he could remember enough about his characters to recreate their specific moods.

Of course, there were some things I didn't like so much about Capital. My aforementioned venture into reading books I don't know much about is wonderful because I feel I'm expanding my literary territory, but also means I read some books that aren't as much my style as others. This book was great - I really enjoyed it - but it lacked the strong authorial presence I love (found in my beloved Confederacy of Dunces, Dead Souls, Vonnie's and Twain's books, and The Master and Margarita). It's not quite a narrator, but more like a guide - someone who explains what's happening more than a detached writer or involved character would. I would have liked to have a stable voice in Capital to direct my attention.

Hi!

I'm still around.

I've been transitioning from The-Job-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named to working more at my old old job, which means less time for reading. That's not entirely true - a more accurate explanation would be that instead of reading in my spare time, I have been adding books to my wish list. Also, our life is generally too "boring" to blog about. Except actually we recently discovered Master Chef, which is hilariously over the top and sometimes mean. It's our rebound tv show - we finished Seinfeld.

Moxie is getting better at cuddling - TWICE today she clambered over the furniture (which is adorable right now, but might result in some broken couches if she tries to do it full-sized) to fall asleep right next to me!!! That's my favourite thing that she does. My least favourite? She's very good at communicating with us through barking - maybe too good. It's difficult for a little puppy to discern the distinction between helpful barks (I need to go outside!) with annoying barks (you are eating and I also want some food! You are cuddling with each other instead of paying attention to me! You abandoned me to check the mail!, etc.). She really is just darling on the whole, though. We lucked out.

Our house!

Yep. It's finished. D has been ridiculously antsy for me to post this all day. He actually harrumphed when I rejected the one we filmed last night as being too dark to share with family and friends. Try to ignore this one's being too nasally, shaky, and repetitive.

What Kind of Book Reader Are You?

From here, addendum here. D and I are both "it's complicated," though I am more complicated than he (of course)! We have totally different reading/buying styles for books, which makes it amazing that we can stand to read books together.

Moxie is The Dog. She noses around the house all day surrounded by items her owners sometimes unabashedly strokes (ooer)/ignores her to enjoy. She sees them mostly as toys, to either paw over a buried bone or gnaw on while David "looked away for just a second." (Mmhmm. Sure.) Thankfully, she's only chewed up one book so far - Bush at War by Bob Woodward. I am interpreting this to mean she is a Democrat and dislikes Bush as much as her people do. :)

How to Get Into the Twin Palms

I left the book cover medium- rather than small-sized so you can see this little guy's tattoos. Aren't they wild? I especially love his epaulets. Idk what he's doing here - he doesn't fit the description of Lev, the only man described in detail in this novel - but I like him anyway.

This is a book about Anya, a Polish immigrant to the US who desperately seeks entry to the exclusive Russian nightclub, the Twin Palms. It is short, but weird, and reminds me of movies like Drive that everyone obsesses over but I don't really understand. It also reminds me of Mary Martha Maeby May Marlene or whatever, which is a movie I begged David to watch with me and he quit after "nothing had happened" for 30 minutes. It's one of those books you read for the writing and story itself, not because it's an action thriller or something. I'd enjoy seeing a film version of Twin Palms - the writing is so rich and evocative that it would very easily translate, I think.

 I'm sure there's a literary word describing writing that heavily describes the senses - it's on the tip of my brain - and if you can think of it, this novel is rich with it. I winced, wrinkled, and evinced other outward signs of disgust after reading her descriptions of all she smells. She often literally scrubs her skin away to rid it of smells. There are also obvious signs of her self-consciousness about her identity, like constantly dyeing her hair. I liked how often the author wrote about Anya's changing her physical appearance or scent to illustrate her desire to shed her identity.

I liked this book, and I can see why it was on that list of best summer 2012 reading. It was nice to read something in vogue. I don't think I liked it enough to buy a copy to read in the future, but we'll see.

The Fault in Our Stars

John Green is one of the authors whose careers I follow, so I've been excited for this book for months. His characters' sense(s?) of humour remind me a little bit of Sarah Dessen, but they also use tasty words like hamartia (which this lexophile loved). This book is about Hazel, who was diagnosed at 13 (she's either 15 or 16 in the book) with terminal cancer. She meets Augustus Waters at a support group and the book follows their relationship. It's deliciously nerdy (what more would you expect with a book whose title hails from Shakespeare?) and often simultaneously funny and heart-rending.

Though he's widely known within the genre, I'm hesitant to identify John Green as a YA author for a few reasons.

• It's difficult to place Green in a genre. While his books are fast reads and based around teenage characters and issues, they are very mature. 
• His novels deal with issues that are not confined to adolescence, like a close friend's death. 
• I sometimes feel sheepish when my current book is from the teen section and I don't want others to judge this book as unworthy because it's YA lit. (I then feel sheepish for feeling sheepish. Twilight and its cronies have tarnished the genre's reputation.) Regardless, some books, while meant for a primarily teenage audience, are unequivocally well-written. This is one of those books.

If The Fault in Our Stars has a hamartia, it's that the characters are unbelievably funny and intelligent - which is hardly a flaw at all.

The Year of Magical Thinking

Ahh. Much better than Blue Nights. This was written after the death of Didion's husband, John (note the cover - J O H N. Blue Nights says N O, which I thought was maybe a mistake, and am now politely pretending is literary rather than cheesy). It also describes (one of) her daughter Quintana's hospital stay(s), but I assume that Q recovered before this book was published.

The repetition here reads as soothing, not frantic. Didion guides you through her process of grief, recalling tidbits from grief experts, poems, and the books she and John wrote (separately). She recalls their life together and explores what life will be like without him. This is exactly what I expected from a book about a loved one's death. I no longer believe that Rory Gilmore had a lapse of judgment when she read this (I know she's not "real", but she has very good taste).

I still don't really understand why Didion published Blue Nights, though. I'm hoping she did it for the paycheck. Many of what she writes there is also here, but better written. I don't think you'd be missing anything if you just read The Year of Magical Thinking, but you'd be missing something if you didn't read it.

Blue Nights

Moxie is sleeping next to me! We've been working up to it the last couple of days. She gets jealous and comes to visit us when D & I cuddle, so we've taught her to cuddle just like we taught her not to chew on the couch. Well, both of these are a work in progress, I guess.

I walked past Blue Nights on my way to the library scanner and grabbed it because I own (but haven't read) The Year of Magical Thinking. I wish I hadn't. The writing was simultaneously repetitive and scattered, but that's not why I didn't like it. It seemed like Didion wrote whatever entered her mind when she forced herself to think about her daughter, which was hopefully good for her grieving process, but made the book seem more like a journal entry than a published work. I felt like I was intruding on, rather than privy to, her grief. Blue Nights felt more forced than cathartic, and since this is my first Didion, it's hard to tell whether I dislike her writing style or just this book. I hope that The Year of Magical Thinking reads better so I can further enjoy Play It as It Lays, which I've wanted to read for years.

Hate List

I added this to my list after ONTD said it deserved a place on this NPR list of the best teen novels. During my last semester at Pitt, I added an Adolescent Rebellion lit class because it fit into my schedule and wasn't as frightening as the Russian lit class with a Bona Fide Russian (who lectured us about our bankruptcy of Russian cultural knowledge the entire first class and spoke so quickly the second my hand cramped. Not what I was looking for my last semester, but I wish I'd found him sooner). Despite my neverending grudge about getting an A-, I really loved that class, and it's made me much more interested in YA fiction than I thought I'd ever be. I'm sure that eventually I'll get back into reading Austen, Dickens, and Tolstoy, but for now I'm really content to read books like this more often than the "classics".

I fell in love with the narrator, Valerie, which is weird because the book's about a school shooting. When I first started reading it, I didn't especially like it - I didn't know how to relate to the intimate and unique situation of having your boyfriend  kill people whom you had put on a Hate List (you might think these are spoilers, but I promise and swear, you know this in the first few pages).

By the end of the book, I was actually crying as I do when I incredibly sympathise with fictional persons, non-human animals, inanimate objects... (A la Jess from New Girl, I really do feel sorry for the single socks abandoned on the side of the road.) And no, David, I didn't just think how I would feel, you sawcebox. It was more like I just wanted everybody to stop being so distrustful/hostile/blaming of/to Valerie and treat her like she was finally learning she deserved to be treated (sob).

This is a very fast read, but pretty emotional (for some people). Seriously, it was a good thing that it was a slow phone day for my scheduling job. I can't imagine how embarrassed I'd be to have a client call in the middle of my sob fest (which lasted a good fifteen pages). It's well-written in that the characters are fleshed out, but the ending was a little hasty, like the author realized she'd hit 400 pages and people might not want to read many more. I would've. Just saying.

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

I have a problem.

The organizer in me doesn't want to read books without a system. The bibliophile in me wants to collect as many books as possible for future appreciation - four bookshelves almost full, and I still have so many gaps! And I always find new reading lists telling me about good books I've never heard of! These two identities constantly battle.

Which is why I first frantically requested most of these books from my library, but then re-shelved all my books at home and got excited to follow through with the system, and am now just telling myself to enjoy whichever book I'm reading and forget the rest.

Anyway.

Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? was the first available book from that list. It was actually published in 2011, so I'm not quite sure what it was doing on a 2012 summer reading list. I'm so, so glad it was, though. It's somewhat miscategorized (the tagline is "If you wanna feel good about books while reading a book"), but only because it is incredibly difficult to label. It is a memoir about adoption, love, loss, childhood, motherhood, books, sexuality, Accrington, feminism, religion, writing, and reading - just to name a few. Winterson cleverly combines these diverse topics, maintaining optimism in the midst of madness, abuse, and rejection. For instance, here is what she writes after her entire collection of literature is burned by her mother:

The books had gone, but they were objects; what they held could not be so easily destroyed. What they held was already inside me, and together we would get away.

Perhaps the tagline was about books because Winterson's writing demonstrates she is well-read. You can immediately tell, even without her describing her trips to the library to alphabetically read Eng Lit Prose A-Z (which the organizer in me loved). It is easy for me to say that you will appreciate this memoir if you love books, but not because it is a memoir about books. If you're looking for one of those, read Ex Libris. Read Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? because it is well-written, honest, and intimate.

Cuddle Quandary

Moxie is the perfect dog. She is curious, sweet, playful, and smart. There is just one problem - she hates cuddling.

I won't lie - one of the things I was most looking forward to about having a puppy was the cuddles. I cuddled a lot with Rhu, my parents' puppy, when I went to Nebraska on the day of my brother's wedding. I used to take Maggie out of her kennel at night just for the cuddles. All three of my parents' dogs are incredibly cuddly, and even my dear girl Nugget cuddled me as best she could with her large frame.

Unfortunately, any time I try to cuddle with Moxie, she churns around in my arms until I let her go. One time I tricked her into cuddling with me for an hour or so by picking her up when she was sleeping, but never since then. It's like her cuddle quota was reached and now it will never happen again. She even refuses the physical comfort of cuddling when she goes for car rides, which is her least favourite thing to do.

I just don't understand how Moxie can be a true Manes without loving cuddles. My favourite part of the day is cuddling with David. I guess we'll have to click train her or something. 

Monsters of Men

This is the last book of the YA trilogy I began reading in June. I didn't find it as rewarding as the first two, but I don't want to say it's the book's fault. Ness' style and Kingsolver's style are very different, so it's possible that Ness' technique -
of writing -
like this-
during action scenes -
was more glaring compared with Kingsolver's more fluid sentences. I might have not noticed it at all if this had been waiting at the library for me after I finished The Ask and the Answer.

This was a very fast read despite being "long" (it has about 600 pages, but would probably be more like 350-400 if the writing weren't so stylized - specific people/animals are associated with specific fonts, and loud noises can sometimes take up 1/4 of a page in text) and much better than the third book in some other YA series (ahem, Mockingjay, Specials/Extras). It did a very nice job of integrating events that happened in the first two without being heavy-handed or too tied-up-with-a-bow. I liked that Todd's issues changed in this book to become more about society than himself. Todd learns how to use the information overload of hearing/sending thought broadcasts rather than constantly wrestling with it. Monsters of Men focuses more on intrapersonal struggle in all the main characters as they attempt to decide what's right for them, what's right for their society, and what to do when compromise between the two is impossible.

 As an aside, it's pretty amusing to read "Todd!" "Viola!" over and over again - it reminds me of Titanic.

The Poisonwood Bible

This book has lived on my shelves for probably a year and a half now. I bought it after several of my trusted readers recommended it, but hesitated to read it because I didn't think it would live up to the hype. I must admit that I actually winced when I saw Oprah's seal of approval on the cover. I mentally dragged my feet after the first chapter set the novel in Africa but featured a family of white missionaries, thinking it would be another white savior novel.

It is anything but. It surpasses the hype. It really is just wonderful: masterful storytelling and dynamic characters without requiring stringent attention to read (I'm looking at you, DFW). No doubt I'm a little biased because its five narrators are exclusively female, but it cheapens The Poisonwood Bible for me to say that I mainly liked it for having female narrators. The Price women are generally strong-willed and smart without all reading like the same person. The narration skips around enough that it's easy to temporarily forget who is speaking, but reading just a few sentences will remind you. Ugh. I am so happy with this book. It is one I am sure to revisit.

Good Grief

Debbi lent me this book after talking it up for about a month, so I set aside my other book so I could read this first. It's about a young woman (mid-30s) whose husband dies of cancer just three years after they're married. Reading a novel about a young widow freaked me out because I'm neurotic enough to worry about becoming one, but it wasn't as sad as I thought it would be. There are a few gut-wrenching things in the first chapter, but little to none after that.

I liked this book because Sophie's grieving process is believable without being (too) annoyingly pathetic. There are also plenty of plot developments that ease her grief without ignoring it - she moves to a new town, makes new friends, and opens a bakery.

I didn't like how much the book dealt with meeting a new man. I would've liked to see Sophie reestablish her life as a single lady and professional woman before she met her dreamy boyfriend, not after she had dated him for a while. It felt too much like she needed a man instead of choosing to have one. Also, the writing gets lazy sometimes - there is a chapter that repeats at the start of each paragraph "Drew was ____," an error that every basic writing course preaches against - don't tell your reader about your characters, show them.

Still, it's not at all a bad book - perfect for light and fast summer reading.

Moxie Bartlett Manes

We got our puppy last night at around midnight - she is just the cutest thing! Her name is Moxie Bartlett (because we love Charlie and President Bartlett). She is still getting used to her new house. She follows us around everywhere and is really curious/sad when one of us leaves.

The picture is a few weeks old. Look for more soon!

...Really?

H (after day of physical labor resulting in weird sunburn): I'm tired.

D (after day of labor sitting in his now VERY air conditioned home office): Okay. Let's go to bed and read.

10 minutes later...

D: zzzzz

H: -_-

Everybody Was So Young/Tender is the Night

     I found this book in one of my favourite bookstores, a tiny place in Omaha's Old Market with towering bookshelves and books stacked spine up in the aisles. I make an effort to go there with David as often as possible. I'm mildly interested in the literature of the 1920s, but this is the only biography of that time that I've read so far.

Sara and Gerald are known for their generosity toward their friends, their partnership, and their lovely parties. They were friends with Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, the Dos Passoses, and Picasso, and while this book describes their sometimes tumultuous relationships with these famous artists, it focuses more on Sara and Gerald themselves. They are generally fascinating people, and the author did a wonderful job of highlighting their style, grace,  courage, and optimism. I liked the book well enough, though it took me a long time to read through. This is probably not so much the fault of the book as it is moving and unpacking. I packed my bedside reading lamp much sooner than I probably should have...

I chose to read Everybody Was So Young now because I just finished Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night. He borrowed extensively from Sara and Gerald when describing the pre-mental breakdown/alcoholic Nicole and Dick Diver in his novel. Sara was pretty pissed about it - she refused to read the novel or see the film. Hemingway said that it would have been fine for Fitzgerald to write about the Murphys if he had kept them the same, but it was a perversion to meld Sara and Gerald with Scott and Zelda. I enjoyed Tender is the Night when Nicole and Dick were happy and living life (as Sara and Gerald), but it got dark very quickly. I, like Sara and Hemingway, found it odd that Scott would use Sara and Gerald as models for fictional characters that eventually separate after having ruined each other's lives.

All moved in!

We finally moved into our new place. Our old apartment was somewhat dingy and we were sooo excited to find this one. It is a beautiful house, so open, bright, and happy, and the only thing we have left to do is organize our books (!!!) and finish David's office. Pictures/a video tour are forthcoming.

Now that we are moved in, it seems like an eternity until we get our puppy. I am so ready to have her!

No, I said 'ello!

So -

David takes the first part of the bar tomorrow! We (especially he) are both really ready for him to be done studying all the time and back at work. He really misses working with Kim, the attorney he's been working with for a few years now (and also our new landlady!).

We move into our new house this weekend! It's about 15 minutes away from our current apartment, but a much bigger place (two floors and a basement!) and it has a grown up address. We're most excited about Kim allowing pets, so we're applying for a Newfoundland/Lab (my fave of faves!!!). We're moving more efficiently this time, but I'm antsily packing e-ver-y-thing, and some of them are things we will miss. We are also trying to drink up some of our alcohol so we don't have to move it, so we've had some fun nights filled with rum and Community.

I am working as an assistant (to the) professional organizer and making calls/scheduling appointments for a local entrepreneur. I've also just started driving again after a looooong respite, which is fine except for parking. In Pittsburgh, you have to know how to parallel park like a champ unless you wanna pay for parking, and I don't (to both). It turns out that merging onto the interstate isn't nearly as stressful as stopping traffic while making a seven-point turn trying to park your car. Who knew?

Back in the saddle again

These things never turn out how I expect them to.

After a year and a half hiatus, I finally got the urge to start blogging again. I didn't fully abstain from writing about books, as I make monthly semi-regular book posts on facebook, but from now on I'll be posting them here as well.

Why start blogging again? Multiple reasons. I love reading updates on Kaitlyn's blog, we're thinking of getting a dog, and I live far away from many close friends and family I don't regularly communicate with. (It's mostly the desire to post lots of pictures of our dog.)


S'later.