First Dates

Just so you know, I was given permission to share this information on the world wide web -

Quite recently, I was asked by a certain 12 year old boy when I went on my first date. "Depends what you mean. Do you mean like a date in a car with a guy or do you mean going with somebody, having a boyfriend?" "Well, either." So I provided information as best I could remember. I also said that being able to drive a car was a good indication of when someone could go on an actual date.

Said young boy grinned and spoke up, "I asked someone out last week."

"You did what? How did this happen?"

"Mindy (name changed to protect the innocent) and I were at lunch and just talking. And then I said, you wanna go out with me sometime? She said - ooohhh, FRIENDS!" He kept grinning and thankfully didn't seem crushed by the rejection.

"So what did you think about that?"

"I think she likes me. She kept flirting with me at the retreat." I then went on to ask how two 12 year olds would go on a date (if they went), how they would get there, where they would go, and who would pay. Those apparently were inconsequential details. I then asked what his best friend said when he told him about the rejection. He grinned and responded, "He said that must suck for you."

I think this is the most entertainment certain young man has provided since he was in kindergarten.

Things I learned at the US Open

This past weekend I was able to fulfill a dream I have had for many years - I was able to attend the US Open. Restless Mama and I have been planning this for a while. I have never been to a professional tennis tournament. Restless and I were able to see the day session on Friday (then got rained out Fri night and all day Saturday), and then the day session on Sunday. So - here are some things I learned during my weekend.

1. First impressions can be changed - Andre Agassi and all his image stuff really got on my nerves in the 80s; but for some time I have really admired him, his work ethic, his philanthropy, his love for his family and friends, his wisdom, and his graciousness. Just being on the grounds during his last match was an honor.

2. There are some great older women out there - Restless and I really enjoyed the Carlos Moya match (and not just for his great forehand). A woman beside me (probably in her 50s) spoke of how hot he was during a changeover - I of course agreed - and then she commented on some other similarly blessed men on the tour. Not much later, I heard a woman in her 70s make similar remarks.

3. A mother can never impress her 12 year old son - "Did you see Agassi?" "Well, no I didn't have tickets for the big stadium that day." "What about Federer or Roddick?" "Well, no - but I did see Nadal." "Huh" - as he dismissed me.

4. There are lots of friendly people in NY - I felt like I was part of one big family at the Open - everyone was talking to strangers, sharing lots of info, being kind and patient (even on a record setting attendance day). The Billie Jean King National Tennis Center was a really nice, friendly place to be.

5. Doing one's homework pays off - I have obsessively watched tennis on tv for years. I always read my Tennis magazine, and I scour the web for tennis news. My first day ever on the grounds was Friday - and I found myself giving directions to various people (I had the grounds map memorized), finding toilet paper in the bathroom for people in empty stalls, and explaining some of the various seating arrangements. I felt like Rory Gilmore the day she first visited Yale.

Pictures will be forthcoming!

Bulk Mail...Duuuuuhhhhhh!

I've had the pleasure of doing a variety of things with my job. This summer I had the opportunity to reapply our organization for a non profit bulk mail permit. I collected the requested materials and submitted them at the appropriate center. The manager had some questions about our aka in our organization name - but I was confident things would be fine.

While I patiently awaited the renewal of our permit, I had to get a bulk mailing out. I was told this could be done while I was waiting from NY for the renewal, and after the renewal I would receive a reimbursement for extra cost. No problem.

I scoured the usps website to make sure I did this correctly. I wanted to have the letters all sorted properly. After two full work days of getting the mailing ready to take to the bulk mail center (and breaking some kind of child labor law where my 8 year old was concerned - but she is a really good folder and really good at putting on stickers), I proceeded to the mail center. The very nice lady called NY to check on my permit. The paperwork was nowhere to be found - so we faxed a copy to them again. I could still do a mailing. I had actually sorted too thoroughly and had to correct that. And then I had to put non-adhesive stamps on 310 newsletters. And then we had to figure out more paperwork and have me write a check (no debit or credit cards at that center). After 2 hours, I was able to leave and confident the mailing would be sent out that day.

I finally received confirmation from NY that the permit was reinstated. I had another mailing to do this week. With some help, I only wasted one work day. I then gathered everything together to head to the bulk mail center. I was only there 1 hour this time (cut my time in half!). We are still working on the paperwork for reimbursement from the last mailing, still need to get a rubber stamp with the permit number, and still need to make sure I can fill out the paper work correctly. The patient man was very helpful, but I know he thought I was an idiot. I had to use a calculator to multiply exactly the number of pieces for one zip code by a certain decimal a few times. Then I was supposed to subtract 11.01 from 23.56 - I continued to use the calculator and heard some snickers from the helpful postal worker.

I wanted (but did not) to say, "I am really not an idiot. I actually have a masters from a very good school. Granted, one where lacrosse players should never be allowed to have parties - but where I got a good education. I handle all my family finances. I have sat on boards and organizations. I really do have common sense. And you have to understand I have been putting in 70 hour weeks the past month - it's the nature of my job right now."

So when my hour was up, I left with a big weight off my shoulders (at least for the next two months). I also left wondering when I had encountered something that made me feel like such an idiot. Now, if I didn't have an accountant come April, there might be competition.

Thank goodness for the government which keeps us humble.

The IRS gets it right

Yes, you read the title correctly. I know there are a number of us who would think that statement could rarely be true - but an instance occurred last week which encouraged me to write this post.

It has been a tradition for some time that celebrities at the Oscars receive gift bags. In recent years, the bags have become multi-million dollar bonuses - the latest gadgets, vacations, jewelry, and even diamond studded underwear (really). Like any of these wealthy people need these things? As if they could not afford 225,000 of these items if they wanted? I realize that companies want to have a celebrity photographed using one of the said items since people tend to want to buy articles used by celebrities. (However, I have a hard time imagining wearing a size 0 jewel embellished thong.) I've been even more disgusted to hear celebrities talk about how they really look forward to all the free goodies.

Thank goodness there have always been some people with sense - like George Clooney - who would promptly give the bag to charity (to be used, to be auctioned for the money, whatever).

And now the IRS has finally caught on to the free bonuses - they announced last week the gift bags would be taxed. I hope most of the people impacted have enough sense not to be upset by this - and maybe even more will give the bags directly to be auctioned for charity. Better yet, maybe the companies will stop the practice and use those funds for charitable donations themselves.

Books

Here is a meme from Edgy Mama. I can't resist anything to do with books.

One book that changed your life?
The Once and Future King by T.H. White - it helped shape my personal philosophy in a major way

One book that you read more than once?
Quite a few would fit this category, but the hands-down winner is Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I must be somewhere in the 30s.

One book you would want on a desert island?
The Bible - it has so much variety (mystery, love, betrayal, poetry, friendship, humor, mysticism, etc.) that it would keep me busy for a while; plus, there is the added bonus of the hope it could provide when stranded on a desert island

One book that made you laugh?
Lamb: The Gospel according to Biff, Jesus' Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore

One book that made you cry?
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling; I cried in the movie too when poor Cedric met his untimely death

One book you wish you had written?
A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L'Engle

One book you wish had never been written?
The Left Behind series

One book you are currently reading?
Twelve Sharp: A Stephanie Plum Novel by Janet Evanovich (and yes, I have read all 12 Plum novels in the last 3 and 1/2 weeks)

One book you keep meaning to read?
After Virtue by Alistair McIntyre (one of those theology books I read for professional enlightenment)

Say What?

When I was about 3 or 4 years old, we would be visited by my aunt and uncle and 5 older cousins about once or twice a year. I was wise enough to hide my toys before they came - I knew older kids brought destruction with them. I also knew the visits (while I loved my extended family and looked forward to seeing them) would bring nonsense sayings as well. The most beloved was, "Hooey on Amy." Hooey on Amy? What was that supposed to mean? And why say it to a 3 or 4 year old? Yes, it annoyed me - to the point that I threatened to call the army and have them arrest my uncle.

Some talents - like a talent for nonsense sayings - never cease. Witness the latest saying from 12 year old Sonny Boy, having just returned from a visit with said great uncle. "What in the ham fat is that?" If I've heard it once today, I've heard it a million times.

Of course, Sonny Boy has spent the last few months finding various ways to say, "I've got some beans in my pocket, yo-de-a, yo-de-a," so I should thank my uncle for the change.

Dear Mr. Squirrel and family

Dear Mr. Squirrel and family,
I hope you are enjoying your summer. I am glad you have survived my kittie huntress. I'm sure you've seen the bunnies and birds she has terrorized and left for me as a present in front of our door. I am unsure if she likes squirrels or not. Perhaps you and your family are just too fast for her. Nonetheless, I am happy for you that she has left you alone.
I know you have noticed something new in the yard this year. Princess and I have a long standing tradition. Each summer, we plant giant sunflowers - and lots of them. My great-grandmother always used to have giant sunflowers in her garden. Sunflowers are my favorite flower. (Hubby, please take note.) Princess and I love to plant the seeds, water the seedlings and then gently plant them in the ground. It's fun to guess how long it will take before they are taller than she, and then how much longer before I'm in their shadow. One thing about our new house that we like is that the soil is great for growing giant sunflowers. They have grown like never before.
Yet, we noticed something unusual lately. The giant sunflowers are starting to droop - some even to the point of breaking. I didn't understand. How could that be happening? And then I saw you and your family. I had no idea squirrels could climb up a giant sunflower, all the way to the top, and then bend it over dramatically, while you eat the sunflower seeds. It looks like quite a feat. Of course, now most of our beautiful flowers are bent to the ground.
I have just one thing to tell you Mr. Squirrel. If you and your buddies keep this up, I will help the huntress kittie hunt you down and leave your body parts on my front porch where she always leaves her best prizes.
My best wishes for you and your family and friends for the rest of the summer and fall.

Rio

Blogging 4 Books entry

Here is my entry for this month's B4B.

Summer of 1979 - I find myself gazing at the mountains, hardly aware of the breeze, as my book drops onto the porch swing. "Wow... That Jane Austen is really something. She must have known someone like Mr. Darcy. When I start dating, that's the kind of man I want." I subsequently read everything by Austen while my friends think I'm a weird egghead.

Summer of 1983 - I'm at Nerd Camp with nerds from all over North Carolina. I encounter a quite tall, lanky, dark-haired young man - no one's idea of a nerd. Mr. Darcy as a 16 year old? It's luuuvvvvv. When camp ends, I console myself with the fictional version once again. My friends tell me I should think more about Jon Bon Jovi and forget the made up guy in the funny clothes.

Summer of 1988 - I'm in love. He's a little short to be Darcy and a little too talkative and gets along with far too many people and doesn't have any money - BUT, Darcy is fiction anyway. I spend the next 18 years with days, and sometimes weeks, banging my head against the wall and muttering, "Austen knew. Austen knew."

Summer of 1996 - I'm in love. BBC knows Austen. Colin Firth is SOOO Darcy. Wonder if he's married and wonder how Hubby's cholestoral is doing.

Summer of 2005 - Phone rings. I'm reading P & P again (38th reading?) while watching the BBC miniseries (21st viewing?). I ignore the phone, but Hubby hands it to me. "It's Beth. She wants to talk to you."

"Hey Amy! We sure miss you up here, but I bet you like your new home. Andy says it's great. Are you enjoying it?"

"Uhhh - yeah," as I scan the room. It's too dark to see much but the tv and a few words on my page.

"You aren't fantasizing about Darcy again are you? You have a wonderful husband, two healthy and smart kids, lots of friends, a great new job and home. Step into reality."

"I just need a little fix!"

"Turn off the tv and go take a walk with your kids."

"Tomorrow."

"Okay - tomorrow. But then the book and the dvd do not come back out until the first snow day. Right?"

"Right....." I mumble some more words, hang up, yell at the kids to hush so I can see Darcy direct his intense stare at Elizabeth, and sigh with contentment. Better than chocolate even.

late night phone calls

I'm getting old - I admit it. When the phone rings after 10pm, I immediately think of my Granny or some other really terrible possible situation. We just returned from vacation yesterday afternoon (week at Edisto Island). I'm usually keyed up after returning and trying to unpack and get the house back in order. So - I'm watching "While you were sleeping" at 11:18 (comfort movie). I knew it was 11:18, because when the phone rings, the caller id comes up on the tv screen. My heart skips a beat, and then I see the cell phone number and name of the 13 year old girl from Charlotte who has been calling my baby boy the past 5 weeks. Hubby answers the phone while I'm whispering loudly, "You tell that girl that he is asleep and she should be too and not to call so late!!" He does tell her that Sonny Boy is asleep, and then nicely says "That's okay."

When he hung up, I responded, "That's okay?! It's not okay! Girls can't be calling my son at 11:18 at night and think it's okay! Either her parents don't know that she is using her cell phone like this, or they don't care. You should tell her not to call so late!!"

Then I proceeded to tell him how I have suspected for years that I would be the "tough" parent when interested parties came to visit our children. They'll think the daddy is so sweet and cute, and that mom sure is tough and wouldn't want to cross her.

Why do I always have to be the meanie?

Fun and Games with Bubba

Sunday is a really good day. It's the day of rest - a day to worship - a day to relax and enjoy good family time. Yesterday started off pleasantly enough. Kids and I went to church (Hubby was at a cousin's husband's funeral.) We arrived home. 95 degrees it was, and I thought kiddies and I might enjoy the free ice cream and music at the church block party. I thought I might have an opportunity to get to know some more people - people with whom I have things in common.

Well, kiddies wanted to go to Wet'nWild waterpark - where we purchased a family super saver pass last December. (It was less expensive than joining any pool in the area.) WW is not my favorite place, but at least it doesn't really matter how much skin hangs out from my bathing suit - no one would really notice. If it's not a tiny two piece and accentuated with numerous tattoos and piercings, it's just not very noticeable.

Kiddies and I arrive and decided to take up a chair in "pirate cove," where I can lounge, read my historical fiction novel and easily watch Princess swim while Sonny Boy seeks thrills on the more exuberant rides. But pirate cove was packed. Rock 92 banners were everywhere. Very large men in odd swim outfits abounded. It was, I came to discover, the Bubba Olympics. (Check out their website for lots more info.) Apparently, one must weigh at least 250 pounds, and consider himself "country" to enter - and also have a non-existent threshold of embarrassment. We could not avoid seeing a few of the events - the moon pie swim, the cannonball, and the water ballet.

So instead of conversing pleasantly with sophisticated people, and eating ice cream - I was thinking of my brother, seeing much more of people than I wished, and trying to list the brighter side of being a Southerner.

Fun Way to Spend an Evening

First, take a 95 degree, humid day. Add a one hour drive at 5pm, with a fruit salad, sleepy daughter, and lots of traffic. Drive way out in the boonies on a dirt road to a very large, wooded camp. Arrive at 6pm to immediately go through the covered dish line while all the Boy Scouts wait (somewhat patiently) for the visiting families to get a plate first. Wait (somewhat patiently) for Hubby to set up camp chair so that you can juggle paper plate and drink on lap - while encouraging sleepy daughter to eat something more than just watermelon. Too hot to eat - but that never really stopped me before.

Dinner is over - wondering where the heck the bathroom is - but can only see the tents set up on wooden bases (smelly little places). Ask Sonny Boy for a tour - apparently there is one hour to wait before "Campfire." (What the heck will we be doing there and why are families supposed to come?)

Sonny Boy shows his smelly tent - which only houses his clothes and food - especially care packages from aunties and grandparents. Has so much sugar could open his own canteen. Say a quick prayer that he's brushing his teeth at least once a day. We see his tiny hammock - where he's sleeping at night. He's only had to knock two ticks off this week so far. Wish he would shave his head.

Continue tour. Take trail and realize almost 300 scouts from all over the place. Arrive at central buildings - thank heavens - decent bathroom at Cafeteria. Sonny Boy wants to show the lake - only 10 minute walk. After 20 minutes walking, hearing more and more thunder and walking towards the dark clouds - we turn back to campsite. "Just about 5 minutes!" End up walking fast as we can for almost 20 minutes on tiny trail. Sore body from 3 hours of tennis day before - wonder how bad it will be next morning (it's bad).

Get back to camp - storm's ready to hit. Closing campfire will be at Cafeteria. Walk different way there - but hit by storm first - soaked through and through and very glad not wearing a white tshirt. Chaos at Cafeteria. Staff yelling for everyone to cram into building and get off porch (15 minutes after storm has started moving away - wondering what the fire code is and if that outweighs risk of standing on porch.) Closing ceremony starts in building - wonder why they have to have families there - why don't they do this on Friday night with just the scouts? Then the "serious" part begins where they beg for quiet - some of the lilly white boys pretending to be in touch with their inner Native American and dressed appropriately so. Wonder if anyone in building has more native blood in them than Sonny Boy - who is a whopping 1/32 Cherokee.

Finally over. Still raining. One hour drive back still soaked to bone. Arrive home 10pm - immediately shower, get Princess dried off and then answer phone from Hubby (who was scheduled to stay these last two days). Large tree had fallen and blocked the road; one tent collapsed, tornado warnings the whole time.

Thank goodness Jon Stewart came on tv soon after to salvage the evening.

Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man's Chest

My family and I have been anxiously awaiting the new Pirates movie. We own the first installment (have watched it a number of times) and headed out to an early showing on Friday. (So yes, we have contributed to the record $132 million it's taken in this weekend.) My viewing experience wasn't premium. We were at an older theater, since it saved us about $10 (even with matinee prices) - thus my head was looking straight up at the screen the whole time. And Sonny Boy kept nudging my arm saying, "I'm starving!! Can I PLEASE have some popcorn?" "No! You ate just before you came! Hush and let me watch the movie!"

Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. About 10 minutes into the movie, I thought - "This is like The Empire Strikes Back!" Empire is my favorite of the original Star Wars trilogy (I just pretend the prequels never happened). I sat in the theater Friday thinking about three main characters who thought they knew their situation in the world suddenly being thrust into new circumstances - new worlds. Their plans had gone awry - and in these new worlds, they discovered parts on themselves they didn't realize were there - for good and for bad. Conflict ensues, loyalties are tested, and we are left hoping the good will win out, but also knowing that no one is all good or all bad.

I have always loved swashbucklers. Maureen O'Hara is my favorite actress of all time - especially when she was aboard a pirate ship. Once again, Pirates had creative, interesting and exciting action sequences. The best action took place this time, not on board, but on land. There were nods to the original - but the action was not contrived or repetitive. I liked the twists and turns in the original movie, and appreciated the continued twists and turns.

I have heard complaints about a complex plot. I did have to think about the plot (esp. with Sonny Boy begging for popcorn), but thinking about a plot and figuring out the twists and turns is part of the joy I find in a good movie. The plot was not too complex or difficult - but interesting and thought-provoking. I figured out fairly easily what was happening as the movie progressed (even though I must confess to having no clue how the gambling game worked on board The Flying Dutchman). I do also wish there had been just a touch more humor (and I know that's hard to do when part of the time is spent with Davy Jones).

The acting was great as usual. Johnny Depp has no peer, and I found Jack Davenport's role especially intriguing. Bloom and Knightly were quite good as well, but I was wishing for a little more meat in Bloom's role (Knightly had plenty with which to deal).

Overall, the storyline was interesting, the acting was very good, the action scenes were engaging and exciting, and it was a fun ride. The ending is incomplete - we know that the 3rd movie is half done already - and I will probably go the day it opens again. These characters have new worlds to explore - both within and without. My grade - B+

P.S. - Stay until the credits are over :) You'll be glad you did.

We're a nation of eaters - not athletes

Anyone who reads this blog on occasion realizes the great and undying love I have for my favorite sport - tennis. I am in the midst of one of the best two week periods of the year - the Championships at Wimbledon. After spending the morning suffering through the 100 degree weather at the downtown 4th Festival, I was able to hole up in the air conditioning with ESPN2 and the women's Quarters. Anyone who halfway follows tennis realizes there is not one American (male or female) left in the singles' events. This is huge news. I think I heard one of the commentators say the last time it happened was 1922, and no Americans entered Wimbledon that year. American dominance of this great international sport is over - and with very little hope that a young American is on the rise to be a top 5 player.

This news just after the US's predictable early exit in the men's World Cup.

And what is the byline on ESPN2 today? That same crazy guy from Japan (for the 6th year running) has won the world hotdog eating contest (53 3/4 this year). Who came in 2nd with 52 dogs? An American! Yeah!!!

We suck at sports - but we sure know how to eat.

Cars - the movie

A couple weeks ago, I took Sonny Boy and Princess to the latest animated "family" movie - Cars. I had read some favorable reviews, so I was hoping and praying this would not be another Spongebob Squarepants movie (definitely one of the worst I have ever seen). I was fortunate that Cars was far superior.

Now part of me felt like I should see this movie just because I am from North Carolina. I have never actually seen a NASCAR race, but I know I can name more race car drivers (and even recognize their faces) than I can pro football players. It's just osmosis in this part of the world. I was delighted that several of the actual NASCAR drivers (including the King himself, Richard Petty) voiced characters. Cars is about actual cars - the primary character being a snazzy red racecar, Lightning McQueen. He's all about the glory, the babes, the money, and the sponsorships. On this way to the destination of fame and fortune, Lightning gets waylayed in a sleepy Route 66 town. (There's even a nice little side story about commercialization and major highways missing the local beauty.) The story itself is by no means original - I sometimes had flashbacks to Doc Hollywood. Yet, the way the story is told is quite creative and original and engaging.

These were cars - but I felt like I knew each one. When Lightning left the sleepy town, I was so sad. I didn't want to leave this town and the people in it. I wanted to go back and stay there. (I probably watched way too much Northern Exposure years ago.) I'm sure you can predict the ending - but as with the story itself - it's not the destination that counts; it's the journey.

The journey is just a lot of fun. The characters are interesting. The dialogue is snappy and heartfelt without being cheesy. The voices were well chosen. Even the soundtrack is impressive (Sheryl Crow, John Mayer, James Taylor, Brad Paisley, Rascal Flatts). This really is a feel good movie that all ages can enjoy - and I will happily see a sequel when it comes (as I'm sure it will). My grade - A-

fashions from the edge

Do you remember the day that you set foot on your new college campus? When you were there to register and be "oriented" with all the other new students? Do you remember how you kept trying to ditch your parents, and kept praying that your mom wouldn't cry too loudly?

But most importantly, do you remember what you wore?

I bet most young women do. I wore a pair of predominantly blue and green madras shorts, a white Izod, and white canvas Tretorns (sans socks, of course). I carefully planned my ensemble - I was making a first impression after all.

One of the joys of working on campus is seeing all the assorted fashions. It's been particularly interesting of late when new students are coming in for their first two days of "Orientation." I know most of these young women carefully selected their clothing to reveal the kind of person they are to others. Some of my favorite choices in the recent weeks of orientation days -

*cut-up, layered tank tops with a very short red plaid skirt, black tights, and combat boots
*very low rise ripped jeans with a tiny white tshirt
*low rise, slim fit madras shorts (just a different take on mine from 20 years ago) and tiny Izod shirt
*long, flowing gypsy skirts with tiny tank to reveal belly button ring
*tshirt proclamations like, "All I needed to know I learned in kindergarten," "I do all my own stunts," "I'm the only hell my mama ever raised"
*tiny white tshirt with very low rise blue jean skirt that has ripped edge (I know that's how they come these days) that is precisely 1 and 1/2 inches below one's bottom)

Just some of my favorites. I could do another article on what some of the moms are wearing. Sonny Boy was with me one day and was impressed by a dad who wore day-glo orange Nike bball shoes (and had to tell the dad how impressed he was).

All interesting sites and impressions...

Wimbledon - get rid of the old guys!

Being such a tennis lover, I once again anxiously await the first ball hit of a Grand Slam this Monday morning - The Chamionships at Wimbledon. Of the four Slams (US Open, Australian, and French), many consider Wimbledon the most prestigious. Yet, in one very important circumstance - it seriously lags behind.

Wimbledon is the last of the Grand Slams not to offer equal prize money to men's and women's champions (read article). Their reasons? Men don't normally play doubles like the women do (and don't earn as much money there), and then men play 3 out of 5 sets while women play 2 out of 3. Since when do these old guys not realize that different does not mean one is better? Hubby normally mows the lawn, and I normally do the laundry - they're different, but does that mean one of us should get paid more? And just look at ratings - in recent years, it's the women who are watched more than the men. As much as I want to see Roger Federer win everything in sight, thank goodness for Rafael Nadal who adds some spark to what has become a rather predictable men's game. The women have a whole host of exciting players who could win anything.

Women in Britain earn 17% less than men working comparable jobs. About 80% of Brits want Wimbledon to offer equal prize money. It's 2006 and time for the old guys to go! 80% of the population realizes the year and what's going on in the rest of the tennis world - time to get some of those people in charge of things!

My daughter is different from my son. But I love them both equally and pray that will be treated equally in the world. I pray my daughter will not be forced to earn less one day because she is different from a man. Thank goodness for the differences in the world - it's one of the things that makes this an interesting planet.

Summer Solstice

Yesterday was important for two reasons - June 21 is the anniversary of Princess' baptism (something we always remember as a family), and it was Summer Solstice. Princess and I were driving around yesterday, trying to stay in the air conditioning of the car, when I noticed a sign for a Summer Solstice celebration at the Arboretum. We happen to live about half a mile from the back entrance, so I thought it would be a great way to celebrate.

I felt like I was back in Asheville. People were dressed alternatively and appropriately for the day (I did feel a little out of place in the pink Ralph Lauren shorts and matching pink stripe top, and Princess was wearing a tennis skirt since she just came from her tennis lesson at Parks and Rec - but we weren't the only preppies walking around!) Everything was free, and there were lots of great things for the kids - flowers and hair accoutrements, body glitter, face painting. Drums were played at various spots, with accompanying dancers, fire dancers, and the best hoola-hooping I have ever seen. Mosquito nets were under a number of trees, with free massage or healing touch offered.

We did run into a couple people we know - one family from school and one family from church. I saw the mayor there as well (not that he would have any idea who I was). I thought he was smart to be there - there must have been 2500 people walking around on the late summer's eve.

I have been in disbelief since last November when one local journalist called Greensboro a granola town. It's still most certainly not, but it's good to know there is more diversity than one sees on the surface.

The New Pele

In the next few weeks, if you head into your favorite Mexican restaurant, the service may not be as good as usual. The Men's World Cup will be in full force, and the world (apart from pockets of the USA) will be watching. The SuperBowl is nothing compared to this event. The Christian Science Monitor ran an article about this dynamic recently.

The Monitor talks about this great national divide - how our country alone does not have the love of soccer (football, for the rest of the world). It asks where the next Pele is - and then recounts the history of male soccer players and teams.

Where has that reporter been? It was years ago the US Women's team played (for the second time) in the World Cup Final against China and won an exciting match. Mia Hamm was proclaimed the new Pele (by no one other than Pele himself). If you see a soccer player on tv in ads (and you do), it's Mia. All of our kids are playing soccer, and can name various US female players. Ask for a man - and Brit David Beckham is the only one they can remember.

The revolution has come. The new Pele is here. But she's a woman. Too bad too many men can't see past Title IX.

Dame Margaret Kerr Series

The woman to the right is good - I mean really, really good. Candace Robb

A number of years ago I fell in love with Ellis Peter's Brother Cadfael series. I had never been a big mystery reader, but she combined mystery with medieval history and interesting characters - and I was hooked. With her passing, the series of course is complete. I kept spending time in the small North Asheville library, looking for something else in that genre. I unfortunately tried a few very poor imitators (please, please - ignore the Dame Fresise series for your own health).

Then I stumbled across The Apothecary Rose - the first in the Owen Archer series. I still think that initial book is the best in the series. It follows a 14th century Welsh archer who becomes a spy. I felt like I lived during those times, and wished I knew Owen and Lucie and Magda. Old cities came alive from the page. The mysteries were intriguing. I ached with the characters, and felt their joy and pain.

Robb then started a new series (and she is supposedly not done with Owen, thank goodness). I found the first book in the Dame Margaret Kerr series a few years ago on a close-out table at Barnes and Noble - A Trust Betrayed. A 19 year old woman from Perth, Scotland in the 13th century - seemingly abandanoned by her husband during the time of war with England - goes to Edinburgh in hopes of finding him and discovering who has murdered his cousin. I finished the book and was hooked. I kept checking the website and bookstores, waiting for the next in the series. I finally clued in recently - even though the next two are not published in the States (yet) - Amazon can get anything. I had them airmailed from England.

The Fire in the Flint and A Cruel Courtship are great. Robb is doing her best writing ever. I can barely take in the details of the page because I am dying to find out what will happen next. Scotland of yesteryear comes alive so incredibly. The characters are so real. The history of that time finally makes some sense. I have no idea when the next book in the series will come out. In this series Robb is dealing with some new issues - the ancient Scottish belief in the Sight - women who have vision or foretelling. She presents the spiritual dimension with the practical quite well. The stories are compelling and rich.

Candace Robb is good - really, really good. Take your mouse and head straight to her website (link in first line of this entry) and then head straight to Amazon. Then let me know what you think!

inspirations

I borrowed this idea from Edgy Mama - a list of inspirations (in no particular order)

Mom, Papa, my kids, tennis, Jane Austen, most anything British or Australian, Shania Twain, reggae music, Candace Robb, Lorelai Gilmore, Jesus, dark chocolate covered almonds, Jelly Bellies, meditteranean blue, forest green, Carolina Blue sky, Appalachian mountains, Green Day, Brother Cadfael, Ashley, Sydney Bristow, stars-sun-moon, Mexican food, Sangria, friends, Dixie Chicks, the ocean, adoption stories, having a clean house, sporty 5 speeds, impressionism, pretty little bound journals, bath salts, sunflowers, tulips, and travel

taking the bad with the good

Things that have gone wrong in recent days -
*shuttles to and from airport to remote midwestern campus being delayed and broken down
*being stuck first evening in hallway basement for 1 1/2 hours due to tornado warning with smelly, travel worn people, some of whom wanted to start having a big praise God worship service
*starting the trip with a hurt back
*making it worse with bad fall, which also sprained left ankle and really bruised and scraped right knee
*supposed to have private room, and when mix up ensues - being verbally assaulted by stranger who was my roommate for 20 minutes
*staying in the worst dorm rooms ever
*having one large shower room with four shower heads and divided by moldy shower curtains
*not having flip flops to prevent athlete's foot
*wearing my contacts in the shower and seeing the overhead vent which has not been cleaned since 1954
*only having the very short hours of the dining hall for food sustenance - coffee shop on campus is closed for the summer (even with over 250 guests at a conference - most of whom are addicted-to-caffeine college students)
*having tiny frozen mixed vegetables (you know - the peas, square carrots, corn and an occasional lima bean) at every single meal but breakfast
*having "scalloped" potatoes - sliced and cooked potatoes with cheez whiz over them
*having the meat selection of a corn dog or chicken nuggets (none of us are 8 years old)
*not having any store of any kind whatsoever within walking distance
*the complete unavailabity of Diet Coke - Pepsi must own the whole area

But alas, I did find some people with transportation, and yesterday afternoon was able to get to the theater (the one in town) to see Hugh Jackman in X3. Makes up for all the bad...

who's your daddy?

I'm heading to a national college student conference this weekend. I'll be teaching a workshop on "Finding God in Pop Culture." It is my belief that God is everywhere, and we can especially find God in the pervasive culture which surrounds us.

So yesterday I was finding out more about movies (and I love movies anyway). The Cannes film festival has been in the news, and I was pleased to hear that Brad Pitt (starring in one of the movie premieres there) sent a letter stating that he would not be there, because he and Angelina were expecting the new addition to their family any day now. Now, the circumstances of those two getting together were terribly fishy (and I really don't want to know the details) and I don't condone starting a relationship with another person when you are still married. Yet, I find it commendable that Brad is putting his family first. Quite a change from another A-list movie star who has obnoxiously proclaimed how much he loves his partner and how excited he was about his baby - so much so that he was traveling around the world doing promo for MI-3 days before baby Suri came and then was in Germany when she was 4 days old, doing more promo. Actions speak louder than words, buddy. If my Hubby took off like that when baby was 4 days old - the locks would have been changed when he returned home.

So even in the midst of movie stars and craziness, there is a message about priorities and family. Easy to see God at work there.

kids don't make you happy?

I was listening to an interview on the radio this morning - some Harvard psychologist who has written a new book about happiness. He talked about the misconception about children making someone happy. Research shows that happiness plummets when children are born. It starts to rise again as the kids get older, and then plummets again when adolescence comes. Once the empty nest arrives, happiness gets back to pre-kid levels. My friend Katalina said something about this a few weeks ago, and I thought it was odd when she said it. Aren't my kids the best thing in my life?

But today - it made more sense. Monday and Tuesday I was anxiously awaiting Sonny Boy leaving for his week-long spring trip on Thursday morning. Most of our conversations for days had consisted of him loudly singing, "I GOT SOME BEANS IN MY POCKET! YO-DE-A, YO-DE-A. I'M A G. I'M A G!"

But then as soon as the boy hugged and kissed me good-bye Thursday morning, I missed him and can only think fondly of how happy he makes me.

Ah, the human paradox...

can't hide from mother nature

Since becoming pregnant with Sonny Boy close to 12 years ago - I have tried to feed my family as best I can. I try to be economical, and also to provide the best nutrition. My kids have tried many foods that most adults either have never tried or do not wish to try. Soy, tofu, all sorts of veggie meats, exotic fruits and vegetables and grains - these are staples in our household. I even enjoy watching TLC's new show, Honey we're killing the kids, because it makes me feel good about trying to provide my family with good food and a healthy lifestyle. (don't we love to compare ourselves to others and feel smug about how great we think we are ?)

Now I am not a food nazi - I let them have treats here and there. They will occasionally have a soft drink or a chocolate chip pancake or a sucker. (I know I am a hypocrite - if anyone takes away my daily Diet Coke - it's death. But I did give up all soft drinks the whole time I was pregnant and nursing!)

Now Hubby is getting older - 51 at last count. He's in great shape (particularly for his age), but it's important to watch what he eats. One thing I stay away oftentimes (due to expense and high sugar content and lack of nutrition) are those breakfast cereals. I always keep homemade granola, and if we buy some cereals, I try to go to a health food store or get the less sugary ones. I could care about breakfast foods - but those sugary, kids cereals don't need to be in our house.

Sunday morning (for Mother's Day), Hubby wanted to make breakfast. I would have been happy to make a usual yogurt or half an English muffin - but since he wanted to do it, I told him french toast. He said we were out of syrup (I always make syrup and apparently it had been all used up without my knowledge). Hubby went to the store to buy syrup that morning. Later that day, I was looking in the pantry and I noticed that one of the empty plastic cereal containers now had cereal in it (beside the homemade granola container). I looked. It was full. I opened the top of the container and immediately knew - Frosted Flakes. I looked in the kitchen recycling bin - fairly full - and no Frosted Flakes box.

He knew I wouldn't like it. Not only had the man snuck them into the house, he had immediately taken the box to the outside recycling bin - hoping not to be caught.

When I confronted him with this info, he only grinned. Good thing he has someone to watch out for him.

I'm a good mom

Well, the Mercedes SUV is back with its rightful owner. It sure was fun driving it - but now I am back to either the '95 Windstar or (my preference and the car which has my name listed as owner) the '91 Nissan Sentra. I love driving my little 5 speed, even though its outward appearance is really starting to look rather sad. The paint job is chipping, and we are getting a new underliner soon. And we are missing one hubcap. But it's a good car.

I have two bumper stickers (which I have had for some time). One says, "God bless the people of every nation." I got this one soon after 9/11. The other sticker says , "God is not a Republican or a Democrat." Got that one during the last Presidential election. Oh - I do have a small sticker on the window that says "Duke Divinity School."

This morning Sonny Boy and I were tooling around in the Nissan - buying some new skater boy shoes and checking out the locally owned skate shop (interesting place, I assure you - reminds me of some of the shops in downtown Asheville). After our purchase, the owner of the skate shop gave Sonny Boy some free stickers - like he needs more. One was a bumper sticker that proudly proclaimed, "I'd rather be Skateboarding!"

I let him add it to the bumper stickers on my beloved Nissan. Happy Mother's Day to me.

dependence - not a bad thing

For 11 and 1/2 years, I had the luxury of having my parents live close to us (17 miles away, to be exact). Dad was retired and Mom retired during that period. The free time was crucial - because their main jobs became Child Care Provider for Grandchildren. For years, I wondered how all my friends were able to pull it together without free grandparent care and assistance any time they needed it. Some paid babysitters fairly often, but many also had friends who helped out. Inspite of frequent Free Grandparent Care, there were times we still needed help and I relied on wonderful friends. But those times weren't too often, and we were able to reciprocate.

So now we are out of the Free Grandparent Care zone. Two and a half hours is a little much for things like, "Can you pick up the kids today?" or "Hubby and I want to go see a movie tonight" or "He's driving me crazy! Please take him off my hands for a couple days!" I am obtaining insight into how many people in our very mobile society pull it all together. Since moving here, we very quickly started depending on others to help out. When I had my surgery last fall, thank goodness we had friends who kept the kids for a couple nights. (Mom and Dad were coming down, but Dad ended up in the hospital with far more serious issues than plantar fasciattis.) Thank goodness for carpooling. Thank goodness for friends who gladly switch off childcare - because who can afford to pay babysitters all the time? And thank goodness for people who will help out at the last minute, because Hubby forgot to look at the calendar and didn't know he would be gone while I had a Board meeting.

And we are now in our second week of the '95 Windstar being in the shop - new transmission (yea). Flexible as my job is, we can't always do without a car for Hubby. Last week, some friends loaned us their extra car - a really nice double-cab Ford 150. This week, Hubby is tooling around in a Mercedes SUV. (And we didn't even ask to borrow either one of these cars - our friends just volunteered.) It kinda freaks me out to see a nice car in our driveway. The van certainly looks better than my '91 Nissan. (And I'm not even thinking about gas mileage - Hubby's not driving very much.)

Southerners seem to always be dependent upon the kindness of strangers (pardon the split infinitive, but blame Tennessee for that). Thank goodness we can especially be dependent upon the kindness of friends - no matter how new they are.

memory, pt. 2

We all know that memory is a funny thing. My brother and I are just two and a half years apart, but some of our childhood memories are worlds apart. Mine and Hubby's memories (like him not remembering I had asked him to dust the living room) can also vary greatly, even with just a day's span of time. And my Granny's memory is really fading. Everything in the brain is jumbled around. She continues to have difficulty remembering me, even though we have always been very close. Yet, she remembers my children clearly. Odd.

I heard on NPR this morning a piece about a woman named AJ. She has a memory that scientists say is very unique - no one else is known to be like AJ. She is about my age, and everyday for the past 25 years is like a recording of them. One can ask her a specific date (like April 2, 1984) and she will tell you everything exactly as it was. Time has not muddied any of her memories. Each and every day, every date, every aspect of those previous days is as clear as her present day. Amazing.

The reporter asked her about what it was like. Was it a gift or not? I immediately thought I wouldn't like it - anytime my heart had been crushed (or when I crushed another's heart) would be as clear and present to me as this moment. How could time heal all wounds, if I didn't have time to dull the pain? Yet, AJ said it was a gift to be able to remember her childhood so clearly. I thought that perhaps it would be a gift to remember my Papa more clearly - that's all getting pretty fuzzy - and to remember more of the things that Granny can't remember anymore. Appreciating the good can certainly balance the not so good.

Here's to appreciating pleasant memories...

official preppy handbook meet surfer boy

As soon as I picked up Sonny Boy from school on Thursday (Friday was a holiday), he started complaining about how hot it was and how he really needed some more shorts. Finding shorts is not easy for my picky 12 year old. Shorts have to come to the knee - one inch above and they are WAY too short and WAY too girly. And since Sonny Boy is still on the lean side, shorts that are long enough are often too big around his skinny waist. There are also only 2 approved shopping places - Old Navy and Target. And even then - clothes do not always meet approval.

Friday morning and we are off to Old Navy. "Mom, I want some of those shorts that are like shirts. You know, like those shirts that button down." I said I had no earthly what he was talking about. I was also a little stunned that he was moving away from athletic shorts. Sonny Boy started wandering around ON and finally found a cotton, plaid, button down shirt - "Like this, Mom!" "Honey, I'm not sure Old Navy has shorts like that in your size." We looked, and sure enough we finally found some cotton, madras plaid shorts (which thankfully came down to his knees). I was having mega-flashback to my favorite book from high school, The Official Preppy Handbook. I stood in the middle of ON, gazing off in the distance and fondly remembering all my favorite pairs of old walking shorts, worn with an Izod polo shirt and either my canvas Tretorns or tassle loafers (no socks, of course). Oh - those were the days.

Really hard to believe Sonny Boy wanted to wear the same kind of shorts I once did.

Sonny Boy then announced, "Mom, I need a couple new shirts." "No you don't - you only wear tshirts and you have so many you can't even shut the dresser drawer." "But Mom, but they all have sleeves and I need a shirt like this." (as he held up a bright orange muscle shirt) I had another flashback to all the rednecks at my mountain high school - wearing awful muscle shirts trying to impress the girls with any amount of biceps they might have. I shook my head hard to erase the image as I tried not to gag. (with a spoon...)

"No - you don't need new shirts and I'm not buying any." "But Moooommmmm - I really want a shirt without sleeves!" I decided what the heck - he could go home and cut the sleeves off two of his old tshirts.

We had not been home long that day when he was wearing his new plaid shorts, accompanied by a gray tshirt filled with colorful surfboards - and no sleeves. I'm pretty proud of myself for not laughing in front of him.

Amy Tan

One good thing about moving to Greensboro has been the high quality speakers who come through this town for various lecture series. I was very fortunate last night to drive 10 minutes to Guilford College. They are completing a 3 year focus on Asian Studies, as well as the current 1 year focus on Spirituality. (Guilford is a Quaker school - and a very good one at that.)

The Opposite of Fate: An Evening with Amy Tan was the billing. I have been a big Amy Tan fan since The Joy Luck Club first came out. I have become even more enamored with her after Hubby and I decided to adopt a baby from China. I enjoy her writing immensely, and especially appreciate the understanding she provides as a Chinese American.

Ms. Tan was far better than I imagined. She was quite entertaining, engaging, personable, funny, and poignant. (And I must say she was wearing an incredibly beautiful asymetrical purple wrap skirt with a rich purple sweater and throw - I spent too much time wondering where she bought such an incredible outfit.) The Opposite of Fate is essentially the story of her life and how it influenced her writing. Her father was a Baptist minister who earned his living as an electrical engineer. He died while she was a young teen, in the same year her older brother also died (both of brain tumors). Her mother, quite an interesting character, continued to be a major influence in her life, as witnessed in her writing. In both her own life and in her writing, she has mixed the realities of life (and sometimes the very difficult ones) with humor and compassion.

One of my favorite stories came from an explanation she offered about the line "strength of the wind" in The Joy Luck Club. She ran across Cliff Notes of her book (much to her surprise) and was interested how much symbolism they placed into this phrase. She explained that it came from a Chinese phrase which literally means, "Loud farts don't smell, but the silent ones are deadly." It certainly provides some insight into the term, "breaking wind." (Sure hope my family of origin appreciates this story.)

I was also interested in the writers' band with which she has been involved for a number of years. They perform only for charity - literacy programs to be exact. Fellow band members include Stephen King (are you reading, Edgy Mama?), Dave Barry, Barbara Kingsolver and others.

The evening ended by a question about her "muse." I had noticed when she first came to the podium that she had a large purse with her. I thought - "Couldn't someone have taken that for her?" She placed the purse behind the podium. Upon being questioned about her "muse," Ms. Tan said she brought her muse in case she needed inspiration. She then opened the large purse, and a tiny and very cute little terrier trotted around the stage, to applause from the full theater. She sure seems like a fun person.

Stylin'

Back in Asheville for a couple days to visit. It's good to be back in a town where my average, everyday wear looks downright sophisticated and stylish compared to much of the hippie population. Haven't felt so good about my appearance in months!

what should women read?

I ran across an interesting excerpt recently about women reading novels. It is from James' Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women, first published in England in 1766. It reads,

"...there seem to be very few, in the style of Novel, that you can read with safety, and yet fewer that you can read with advantage. - What shall we say of certain books, which we are assured (for we have not read them) are in their nature so shameful, in their tendency so pestiferous, and contain such rank treason against the royalty of Virtue, such horrible violation of all decorum, that she who can bear to peruse them must in her soul be a prostitute, let her reputation in life be what it will. But can it be true - say, ye chaste stars, that with innumerable eyes inspect the midnight behaviour of mortals - can it be true, that any young woman, pretending to decency, should endure for a moment to look on this infernal brood of futility and lewdness?"

A little different from any sermon I've ever given. I'd probably only put Ann Coulter books in this category - can you, dear readers, think of any others?

Nanny McPhee - the movie

Since my children saw the previews during the Holidays, I have promised that I would take them to see Nanny McPhee. I have gotten to the point I really hate most kid or family movies, but this one was starring Colin Firth and Emma Thompson - so of course I told them I would take them. (And I was quite suprised to see Sir Derek Jacoby in a small and silly role.) It's been out for a month, but we finally made it yesterday. And I must say that Colin still looks absolutely dishy, even wearing a velvet kelly green jacket with a red velvet vest. (Yes, this is a fairy tale story.)

The premise - Mr. Brown (Colin) is a widower with seven of the wildest children one has ever seen. They pride themselves in getting rid of nannies, and especially in record setting time. The agency refuses to send any more, but thankfully a new nanny magically appears (Emma Thompson - and barely recognizable - if you get an Oscar for making yourself ugly, she would easily score in this get-up). Kelly McDonald plays the scullery maid, Evangeline, and is her always luminescent self (I would LOVE to see her in more, and bigger, roles - far too talented for those of us in the States to be missing out on her.) Another issue in the Brown household is that a wealthy, opinionated, and self-important aunt (Angela Lansbury) financially supports the house. She has insisted that Mr. Brown marry within the month (because those wild kids need a new mom) or he loses the money - thus breaking up the family.

It's a fairy tale, so the story is predictable. I anticipated the ending, but it was done far more beautifully than I could have imagined. It's sweet, hopeful, and has a good message for children. (unlike Chronicles of Narnia, where I felt like the message was go and kill anyone you think is evil) At the end of the credits, a line simply said "This film is dedicated to all who are truly naughty. And to their children."

BINGO. Perfect movie for my family...

My grade - B-

why middle aged women shouldn't go to mardi gras

(thanks to Marj for sending this my way...)

The Big 3-9

I am officially 39 today (and yes, I really am - this will be the only year I will be this age). In honor of this day, I wanted to share from a magazine interview. My friend LM, knowing that I'm an Anglophile, sent some pages from More magazine. (a new magazine for women over age 40) They had interviewed Emma Thompson (one of my faves). She said these words about aging,

"It's just lovely getting older. You know, I don't worry so much about myself really. I feel as though now there is no time for any of that, there's no time to kvetch about who you are, what you mean. That sort of self-doubt belongs to when you're younger."

Ireland by Frank Delaney

Frank Delaney, something of an Irish historian, has written a beautiful, fulfilling and epic novel in his latest work, Ireland. This is his first book published in the States, and I certainly look forward to seeing more from him.

Ireland begins a few years after the end of WWII in a small Irish town. It is a dark and windy night when a 9 year old boy, Ronan, sees a Storyteller coming to his house. For his whole life, he has heard the mythic legend of a storyteller - how they preserve the history of Ireland with myths, legends, real and imagined characters, and sweeping stories that enthrall all who sit by the fireside of the Storyteller's host. This old man is said to be the last of the great storytellers, as Ireland comes into the modern age.

I thought at first that the place of Ronan was simply to provide a backdrop for the wonderful stories of this old man. The stories are so engaging that one forgets the backdrop is early 1950s Ireland. I felt as if I were truly there in the original ancient stories. Yet, as the book unfolds, the reader begins to realize that the Storyteller has "chosen" Ronan to succeed him, and that the stories of Ireland - as they proceed through history - shed light on Ronan's own story as he becomes a man and seeks to follow the Storyteller. The story of Ronan (quite interesting in itself) and the story of Ireland are intertwined beautifully. The book is long, yet I was wanting to read more at its end. I didn't want the story to end.

Delaney also provides a wonderful gift in his insights about stories - how the story of Ireland and of one man's life are mirrors of our own story. The story of Ireland is a meta-story upon which we can reflect and better understand our history, our present and our future. Delaney realizes that truth, even if not always fact, is the core of a great and transforming story. He understands how a person's spirit and truth are interconnected, and that story helps us discover more of ourselves in and through the storytelling. He writes on p. 559, "The one joy that has kept me going through life has been the fact that stories write us....And the way we all see our story...that's what we own, no matter who we are and where we come from....Indeed, our story is finally all any of us own..."

It's hard to imagine a better vision for a society so fragmented and so disconnected from our own stories. This is a must read. My grade - A

Arthur and George by Julian Barnes

Julian Barnes' latest novel, Arthur and George, was published at the end of last year. After reading a review in my favorite magazine (Entertainment Weekly), I anxiously awaited the arrival at the local library. I believe I was the first one to check out this new book.

Barnes gathered actual newspaper clippings, letters, journals, etc. about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (author of the beloved Sherlock Holmes series), and in particular collected the writings about Doyle coming to the aid of a wrongly convicted Englishman, George. The story tells of these two individuals, Arthur and George, from boyhood until Arthur's death. The stories of these two men only intersected for a short while - thus the book deals with individual lives for the most part. There is an interesting twist in the life story of George - a twist George refused to acknowledge, but that Arthur knew was of great importance.

Barnes weaves a very interesting piece of historical fiction. He uses actual events and writings, but is very clear about what is conjecture and invention on his part (please pay attention, James Frey). The characters he creates are memorable - however near or far they are to reality. Barnes uses language beautifully, and the worlds he creates are fresh, full and real. The story of Arthur is especially rich and interesting. I could not wait to turn the page and discover where his life would lead. Even when Arthur was dealing with middle-aged malaise, it was still a compelling story. I had more difficulty relating to George - or even being that interested in his story. He is nowhere near as interesting a person or has such a full life as Arthur. It felt like Arthur were really the main character, and that George -instead of being equal in billing - was really one of the bit players in the life of Arthur. I was sympathetic for George, but had difficulty identifying with his character. I found myself reading quickly through much of his life story and wishing that it would go faster - just so I could get back to the story of Arthur. That said, I appreciated the technique Barnes used in creating this story and the interaction of these two men's lives.

Overall, it is a well written book, with an interesting story - even though the interest is primarily in one character. I definitely recommend a read - especially for anyone who has enjoyed Sherlock Holmes over the years. My grade - B

China in the News

China has been in the news lately - and I'm not talking about Google and Yahoo. In recent years, a phenomenon has been taking place in the world of tennis. Tennis is growing the fastest in Asia. More and more Asians are picking up rackets, and tennis tournaments (even large scale ones) are coming to prominence in Asia, particularly China. In the last couple years, the Chinese women have invaded the top 100 of the Women's Tennis Association. The highest ranked is #31, Peng Shuai.

Peng has very recently spoken out about wanting more freedom. She wants to be in charge of her training regimen and tournament schedule (last year, the Chinese had their national tournament during Wimbledon and required their players to be in China). Peng also wants to split her prize money. In return, she will pay her own expenses (which can be considerable for a professional tennis player). In short, she wants some independence and not have her tennis career completely dominated by the state.

We've seen this kind of thing occur in the world of sports over the years. Let's hope Peng will be successful. I'm hoping China is too busy with internet difficulties to give her problems about her proposal.

Olympic Importance

On Monday, 26 year old Greensboro native Joey Cheek won the gold medal in men's 500m speed skating. Cheek has not been one of the highlighted athletes and wasn't even expected to win a gold. He could have simply enjoyed the limelight and tried to turn that into mass marketability and money. But he chose to take his time with reporters in a different direction.

Cheek came from a family where money was by no means rampant (and supporting an Olympic hopeful not an easy task), but it was a family where they believed they should help others who were in need. They gave money, time, energy and effort to help local and global efforts. At Cheek's press conference, he said he didn't really want to talk about the sacrifice and the great moment of winning a medal - he wanted to talk about the people of the Sudan. He highlighted the very difficult situation there, and then said he was giving his winnings ($25,000 for a gold medal - a healthy amount of money for a struggling and fairly unknown athlete) and any future winnings from any other medals he might win to Right to Play, an organization helping Sudanese refugee children in Chad. He challenged the sponsors to do the same. So far, Nike has accepted that challenge.

Cheek is hoping to hang up his skates and go to college. Harvard rejected his application for early admission. Let's hope they will realize the value of a person who sees the value in helping others and taking his moment of fame to highlight people in need.

Honorable mentions to Bode Miller, who with his family has always done and given a lot to those in need; and to 19 year old Shaun "The Flying Tomato" White - the snowboarding genius and my son's hero - for saying that all this fame stuff is kinda cool, but family is the most important thing (Sonny Boy and I watched the interview together - hope it gets through that thick 11 year old skull!).

The Vagina Monologues

Last night, UNCGreensboro hosted a production of The Vagina Monologues. UNCG has a great theatre department, and the monologues were truly well done. A couple of my friends/coworkers participated, as well as other staff and a number of students. The event was in observance of V-Day. V-Day is a global movement to end violence against women and girls that raises funds and awareness through benefit productions of Eve Ensler's award-winning play The Vagina Monologues. More than $30 million has been raised over the years to help in these issues. The 'V' stands for Victory, Valentine, and Vagina.

The play itself is really a mixture of two things - the celebration of being a woman and a woman's sexuality (instead of the guilt or shame that seems to go along with being a woman); and the stories of women who have been abused through violence, especially sexual violence. Each woman's monologue is based on true stories. Some are very humorous. Others bring you to the point of tears. It is a very powerful production that men and women alike should see.

One in three women will experience violence in her lifetime. Let's do all we can to help combat it. Let's do all we can to help girls and women be proud of who they are and the wonderful bodies God gave them.

The Garden Angel by Mindy Friddle

A week ago I was able to attend my Asheville Book Group. There were a couple new members (since 3 of us moved to the Triad last summer), and one of them is Valerie (see about her book). We read The Garden Angel by Mindy Friddle, someone Valerie knows. She was able to set up a speaker phone call with Mindy so that we could talk with her about the book, ask questions, and have her comments and insights. It was a really good evening - I wish I could always talk with the author of books I read.

I must say up front that I really liked this book. (I am a little amazed that I've read two works of fiction in a row that I really liked!) Mindy has written a true Southern novel, but one that thankfully does not fall into the melodramatic Oprah versions of Southern fiction. Mindy provided some great insights into what really makes Southern fiction - not just a setting, but how that setting permeates the characters. The basic story is this - a young woman named Cutter (who lives in a very tiny drive-thru town near Greenville, SC in the late 1980s) is desperately trying to save her grand and historic home. Every real estate agent should read the techniques Cutter uses to keep potential buyers from being interested in her home! (some truly hilarious pieces) Mindy does a great job combining humor with the serious issues of life. Cutter becomes friends with Elizabeth, a woman dealing with free-floating anxiety. Cutter's younger sister is also having an affair with Elizabeth's husband, a man who is the sister's college professor. The book deals with how Cutter and Elizabeth try to maintain or find roots in their lives - how they try to move forward in the midst of what seems like overwhelming odds.

I don't want to give away more of the story. The characters are full and compelling. The story feels real - it is funny, sad, poignant and interesting. I asked Mindy if she knew what would happen to the characters after the story ended - she did not. Yet it's so well-written that one can't help but imagine what the future holds for them. I recommend picking up the book and having a good read.

memory

The mind is a very funny thing. It develops and develops to a point, and then for many of us it stops working as well or perhaps just gets jumbled around some. Memory is especially a funny thing - how come my brother and I remember things so differently? Why are some things blocked from my brain and other things cannot be removed (like every single year for 22 years remembering the birthday of my first love, even though we haven't been in touch for 20 years)?

I am back in Asheville for a day and a half. It just worked out for me to come on my way (kinda) from a business meeting out of town. I saw Granny first thing when I got back into town yesterday. She's 91 now and has been in a nursing home since mid-November. It's a really nice place and it's where she needs to be. Granny was present when I was born - we lived with her until age 10 - and then she has always lived very near or very close to us. She likes to say that she helped raise my brother and me. Granny didn't recognize me initially yesterday - I said "Granny," and she knew a grandkid would say that and came up with my cousin Brenda's name. It's okay - it didn't really make me sad - she seems happy and talked about my children for a long time during our visit (her favorite story about 15 times over - she loves reruns!).

Then today I have been visiting friends. I saw my beloved mentor, Ashley, still recovering from that terrible car accident last summer. I am still so thankful she is here and doing so well - even though there is still so much left in her recovery. I've seen some other friends during the day and will even get to go to a Book Group meeting tonight.

I am so thankful for all the dear friends I have up here - and know I will continue to have - but memories and friendships are continuing without me. It's just the way it is. It doesn't mean that I won't continue with my friendships - we certainly will continue. But memories of me will be more rare and far between. And I wonder when I'll be able to see my friends without wanting to cry - tears of happiness to be with them and then tears of regret that I am missing so much of their lives and they are missing so much of mine.

Better Homes and Husbands by Valerie Ann Leff

I need to say up front that this will not be a typical book review for me. Valerie is a writer who lives in Asheville and joined my book group after I moved. Book Group read the book last fall, and I finally got around to it in the last couple weeks.

And my first thought upon completing the book was, "Why on earth have I waited 3 months to pick up this book?!" It was just a really, really good read. I thoroughly enjoyed it and had difficulty putting down the book.

The premise is this - it is the story of a high end apartment building on Park Avenue in NYC and its inhabitants. The story unfolds over 30 years and from a variety of perspectives. There is not a narrator who knows everything and part of the joy of the book is trying to piece together the story. The characters are people whose lives are very different from my own, but they are presented in such a way I feel as if I know them. They are full, interesting, and developed characters who seem quite real. Just when I am ready to despise a character, I see another side of them. They are truly complex, sympathetic people.

The storylines are compelling and intertwine in wonderful and surprising ways. I appreciate the handling of issues of wealth and justice. The understanding of love, friendship, and companionship is well done. It is a story that will stay with me for a long time. I fully recommend the book to everyone!

Happy Chinese New Year!

"Kung Hei Fat Choy!" (or - "Congratulations and Be Prosperous!") Sunday begins the Chinese New Year, a 15 day celebration observing the beginning of a new year in China. Today, children will receive red envelopes (just like the one above) with money (it should be a multiple of 2, so $2 would definitely do it!). Lots of great foods will be eaten, and friends and family will visit and wish each other good luck.

For these two weeks, family, friends, and ancestors are remembered. The gods of the household are honored. Government offices are closed. All sorts of symbolic foods are served (and please let's remember that fortune cookies were invented in San Francisco to make all the white people coming to Chinatown happy).

It is the year of the Dog, a loyal, happy and tenacious creature. (I do find it ironic that Sonny Boy (given name Caleb, Hebrew for "faithful like a dog") seems to fit his Chinese birth year.) So go find a dog to pat, eat some Chinese food and celebrate!

Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi

I had heard about this book for some time before I finally purchased it last summer. It seemed interesting for a number of reasons - primarily because it dealt with women under an Islamic regime, and also because it seemed to be about a book group (and I do love my book group!). The author is an English professor, a talented and educated woman who taught in Tehran while attempting to deal with a regime that was extremely oppressive to women. She was educated in the States, and has now lived here for a number of years. She lived in Tehran through times I vaguely remember of the seizing of the consulate and an ill-fated rescue attempt. With all the recent discussion of Iran and its regime in the news, the book once again could find a new audience (it was first published in 2003).

Dr. Nafisi centers her memoir around several works of fiction and authors - Lolita, Gatsby, James and Austen. I have read much of these works and felt that gave me a leg up in working my way through her book. I can see where it might be a challenge (though not fruitless) for those unfamiliar with these works and authors. The memoir is not only centered around these books, but also the "book group," seven young women who loved fiction and met regularly with their former professor to discuss such things. As with many book groups, the discussions began to center less and less on the book and more and more on personal lives.

I found the book quite informative about the Islamic regime. It was quite interesting to have such a fresh perspective on living there - in a country that she and many others love, but with a government that seemed hell-bent on making it impossible for one to live there. The perspective and memories were enlightening and created beautifully.

However, the book seemed to ramble much of the time. Not knowing the history of Iran as Dr. Nafisi does, I would struggle to keep track of where she was in her memoir. Her "girls" in her book group I also had difficulty separating one from the other. They certainly had very different stories, but with the lack of linear progression and oftentimes focus in the book, I had to keep turning back to the first explanation of who the girls were to attempt to keep them straight.

Dr. Nafisi writes beautifully, if not always cohesively. Hers is an important voice to hear in today's world. Here are some quotes that I particulary enjoyed -

(in describing a colleague) I used to tease her that the word immaculate had been created for her. When I got to know her better, I came to see that all this orderliness was a camoflage for a passionate nature matched by insatiable desires.

Fiction was not a panacea, but it did offer us a critical way of appraising and grasping the word - not just our world but that other world that had become the object of our desires....(M)y girls,...by refusing to give up their right to pursue happiness, had created a dent in the Islamic Republic's stern fantasy world.

Living in the Islamic Republic is like having sex with a man you loathe...if you're forced into having sex with someone you dislike, you make your mind blank...We are constantly pretending to be somewhere else.

It becomes clear that the oppressive regime could not take away imagination, even with the burning and banning of many books. For Dr. Nafisi and others like her, it is places like the Roaring 20's in America, Regency England in the country, Victorian Europe and others created in fiction, that give them the ability to live. Dr. Nafisi's great love and understanding of fiction, and how that functions in her life, is truly the driving force in this memoir. The conclusion is strong. The last chapter is easily the best in the book. I recommend a read - and just remember when you find yourself struggling through some of the confusion of the earlier chapters, the best is yet to come. My grade - B-

Brokeback Mountain - the movie

Beautiful. Enthralling. Compelling. Heart-wrenching. Just as the main character, Ennis del Mar, has difficulty finding words to express himself, it is difficult to find words to express how powerful this movie is. I don't normally go for serious love stories (be it straight, gay, or a child and their dog), but I am so glad I made an exception this time. On Sunday afternoon I entered a fairly full theatre with my friend Alice to see this long awaited movie. Why did I want to see it? One - I think director Ang Lee is incredibly gifted (as seen from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Sense and Sensibility). Two - I have always liked Heath Ledger (from the days he was 18 years old and starred in Shaun Cassidy's short lived Celtic fantasy series, Roar) and felt he has not received the credit or roles he really deserves.

The story is simple - in 1963, two cowboys are hired to look after a herd of sheep on Brokeback Mountain in Wyoming. They fall in love, but know that this kind of love is dangerous. Their affair ends with the end of the job and they attempt to live their lives as best they can. The movie tells the story of these two men, their families, and their love over a 20 year period.

The story is real and compelling. The actors use their bodies and faces more than words. Each nuance of body movement, be it an eye flicker or nod of the head, or a violent wrestling scene, conveys much more than pure dialogue could. The four primary actors use their bodies to act in wonderful ways, but especially Ledger. As Ennis, his body expresses what he cannot quite understand and could never verbalize. And when he does speak, he says far more than the actual words spoken from his mouth. Truly an Oscar worthy performance.

The symbolism of Brokeback Mountain is the focus of the movie - something that is beautiful beyond words, magnetic, peaceful, fulfilling; yet also isolating, unpredictable, lonely, frightening, and unable to be possessed. Some of us have known a love like that - definitely heart-wrenching. Add into that the danger and threat of such a love between two men, and the place of deepest joy and refuge becomes even more unattainable than ever.

The cinematography is spectacular. It makes me want to travel to Wyoming one day. The direction is incredible - each shot of the film is valuable, important and integral to the story. The music complemented the moods of the story and expanded it (instead of taking it over as it does in so many movies and tv shows today). The story and the acting could not be better. This is a truly great movie on a number of levels - emotionally, critically, and politically. And speaking as one who always looks for a redemptive note in the world, and knowing that sometimes there just isn't one, I felt the story arc and ending were fitting and perfect. I would not have changed one thing. My grade - A

The Chronicles of Narnia - the movie

I had been anxiously awaiting The Chronicles of Narnia to hit the big screen since last summer. The C.S. Lewis series is an old favorite of mine and one we have read to our children. Over Christmas break, I made sure we had an opportunity to see this long awaited movie.

And yet it has taken me over two weeks to write my personal little review. I am usually so anxious to share my opinion with the world, and so I couldn't understand why I wasn't ready to turn on the computer the minute I got home. Then I realized why - the movie did not meet my expectations. I was disappointed.

Now I need to say that my children were not disappointed at all. They loved it - as have most the people I know who have seen it. So why did I find myself looking at my watch several times throughout the movie and then not even staying for the credits (a sacrilege in my book)? The movie did a number of things well. It stayed close to the story. The cinematography was incredible, and the final showdown between good and evil was quite well done. The actors were believable and engaging. So what was my problem?

It all just felt so flat to me. Despite the big budget extravagances, the movie seemed one-dimensional. There was no trepidation as to what might happen next. (Even in a Harry Potter movie - when I know exactly what will happen - I find myself on the edge of my seat.) The storyline seemed ho-hum, - oh yeah, now's the time the brother is going to be really stupid and go to the witch; yeah, the lion is sacrificing himself; yada, yada, yada. I was not invested in the characters (despite the quality acting job). There was no mystery, little magic, inspite of the incredible special effects and various creatures. I have asked myself why several times in the past couple weeks. Was it the storyline itself? Was it the original book or the screenplay? Is this a book that is better left on the written page?

I'm not sure about the answer, but I am sure about my disappointment. I know this movie will win some awards - and deservedly so in some cases. Yet, it left me wanting more. I think I'll have Hubby take the kids to the sequel. My grade - B-

B4B entry - The Girl Scout Cookie boyfriend

This is a Blogging for Books entry - entries are to be about an ex this month. In honor of Girl Scout Cookie sales (going on now!), I wanted to share this particular story about an ex.


I was getting tired of being in the car. Mom had been driving me around for while, with my younger brother staring out the window in the back seat. We kept stopping every few minutes at a different house. I would check my list about which boxes I needed to take to the door, and then Mom and I would get them from either the back seat or the trunk. After delivering the boxes to the family, I would take my leave by perkily saying, "Thank you so much for supporting the Girl Scouts! We are going to have a great Spring trip and do lots of great things thanks to you!!"

There were several times when I slid back in the car that I thought I heard Mom mutter something like, "238 boxes..." and "just HAD to sell more than anyone else."

We were making serious headway as we took the road to Robbie Owenby's house. I planned to deliver the boxes to his mom, collect the money, and then spend a few minutes imagining walking through his door with him holding my hand. I would have to look up at the tall, older basketball player and gaze into his beautiful light brown eyes as he invited me to share some pizza and coke with his family. We would then go to the church parking lot across from his house where he would shoot hoops, only touching net every time, as I clapped and praised his athletic ability. He would take a break from practicing and decide to give me a lesson. Robbie would put his arms around me as he showed me how to shoot the ball perfectly every time. I would try to defend the basket while he dribbled, fail miserably, and we would end up laughing on the grass of the green lawn. He would then tell me how wonderful 8th grade would be for me in a couple years, and that even when he was in high school next year, he would always love me and wouldn't even notice other girls.

"Oh - there's Robbie walking to his house," Mom interrupted. "Amy, just roll down the window and ask if his mom's at home. It would save some time if she's not there." It was only in retrospect that I remember the slight smirk on my dear mother's face.

Panic quickly set in. I didn't know if he even knew who I was - small community, granted, but I was an insignificant little nerdy Girl Scout 6th grader! Mom stopped the car while I was hurriedly saying, "Please! Please go on to his house!" As the car stopped, I knew I had no choice but to roll down the window - Robbie was standing right outside it looking in. I took a deep breath. Now was THE opportunity. He'd notice me and all my dearest dreams would come true.

"Uuh...uuhhh....uuuuuhhhhhhh....Rooooobbbbie. Uuuuhhhhh....is your.....is your uuuhhhh...mom home? I...I have cookies." I tried to tear my eyes from his beautiful face, but the horror of it all was just too much to turn away.

"Nope, she's not there."

Mom leaned across the seat. "Here are the boxes. You can just give them to her and she can pay Amy at church on Sunday."

The car drove off. My brother snickered and then laughed for a long time. Mom kept trying not to grin. Barely a year goes by that my brother (especially when we have GS cookies) does not look at me with big eyes and stutter, "Uuh...uuhhh....Rooooobbbbbie!"

And every year at GS cookie time, I think of the best ex dream boyfriend I ever had.

Are Men Necessary? When Sexes Collide, by Maureen Dowd

You have to hand it to Maureen Dowd, op-ed columnist for the New York Times. She definitely knows how to create an eye-catching book title. Yes, many women have asked this question over the years, so why not create a book to explore the issue?

Dowd states up front that this is not a systematic treatise on gender issues, but simply her thoughts and observations. I appreciate the disclaimer, because the book does feel choppy and disjointed at times. Yet, if one is expecting that, then it makes it the easier to encounter. Dowd is the queen of one-line zingers and pithy pronouncements. I appreciated the laughs and thoughts that were created by them throughout the book. Some favorites -

"...women move from playing with Barbie to denouncing Barbie to remaking themselves as Barbie."

"Whether or not American feminism will be defeated by American conservatism, it is incontrovertibly true that American feminism was trumped by American narcissism."

"From my own unscientific sampling, I think it's far rarer for women to ask men to read their stuff than it is for men to ask women to read their stuff. Poor Condi Rice couldn't even get George W. Bush to read her presentation of his foreign policy goals in Foreign Affairs magazine during his 2000 campaign."

"In sport and war, the big fear of men is to be feminized. In the workplace, the big fear of women is to be diabolized."

"Women are affected by lunar tides only once a month; men have raging hormones every day."

Dowd is of the age to have lived through and experienced the feminist revolution, and to see the pendulum swing back. She understands that the feminist rhetoric of the 70s and 80s is ancient history to many of today's young women and men. While many strides have taken place, women are spending more time, money and effort on "trying to look like Barbie" than seeking equality and opportunity on par with men. Dowd also offers observations on women who are trying to use their intellect and natural gifts, and find themselves without a family or partner in life. The stats for professional women over 35 who have families (or will have) are dim - at a time when many of these women would like to do so. The chapter after Dowd glorifies the sexiness of an intellectual male, she bemoans the scarcity of men available for successful women. I would like to ask her why a "successful" woman has to have a man who is on par or more successful than she is. Men have married less educated, less professional women for years - and many have found happiness. Does feminism not include a woman broadening her horizons, looking for men who might not have a Harvard MBA, but might be very genuine, true, supportive, and proud of a "successful, professional" wife? Dowd is correct that feminism is about having options - but we shouldn't limit what those options are. (And yes, there are men out there proud to be married to a woman who is seen as more successful than they are.)

Another interesting aspect of Dowd's book was how successful women are only likable after taking a fall (Hillary, Martha, etc.) I had not thought about this - but how true! Only after public humiliation can an intelligent, highly successful woman find a likability factor. Perhaps Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter really is the great American novel, after all.

Throughout the book, Dowd not only offers her own insights, she also gleans information from science (about that elusive Y chromosone and its degredation), politics (both sides take a hitting, which I respect), and societal culture. It is an honest book, capable of producing much conversation. The ending is thin - she could have wrapped up her thoughts more succinctly and powerfully. For people interested in gender issues, I recommend a read. It's not the ultimate feminist treatise, but it is thought-provoking reading. B-