Book-learning can be bad

My nieces are very inspiring, but sometimes they wrongly motivate me. Back in August, my sister Robin called me in a responsibly-controlled panic. Madison, the sixteen-year-old, was on medicine to counteract the pneumonia that had taken hold of her respiratory system. Which was all very comforting until her family noticed that the whites of her eyes had turned yellow. Apparently, this indicates liver issues--a bad reaction to the drugs. Anyhow, following the doctor's advice, Robin was taking Madison in to the ER, and the daughters at home were kind of stressed--could I come over and hang out with them? Certainly. I formed great plans for our evening--baking goodies, beauty parlor stuff, etc. Nothing went quite as planned.

Strolling the aisles of the grocery store with Kaeli and Chelsea, I laid out our battle plan. First on the list? Procure cinnamon roll-making goods. They were enthused, but had some questions. "Do you mean just baking the premade stuff, or actually making cinnamon rolls?" Little culinary snobs. Yes, I actually had meant to just get the Pillsbury rounds, but was shamed into also getting a hot roll mix that I used to use in my cinnamon-roll-phase in college. Even that was somewhat embarassing--their mother makes everything from absolute scratch. I'm all about "Just add water".

The cinnamon roll fiasco (forgot to add the yeast) was really nothing compared to the evening's main event. I came armed with honey and ripe bananas, ready to deep condition my hair. Sound strange? I thought so too, but hey--I read about it in a book, so it must work, right? "All natural" always sounds so genuinely positive.
Well, a post-ER-Room recovered Madison had quite a job after that of trying to remove banana chunks from my long locks. We debated the relative merits of extrication methods--before or after hair dryer application. We found that it was a process equally suited to wet and dry hair--that is to say that not suited well AT ALL. Banana continued to linger for quite awhile after that. It did really smell good, though. Maybe if the bananas had been puréed . . .

Shukran (thank you)

A teacher passing through the library the other day threw me an undeserved compliment. "It's really cool that you sign your initials in Arabic," he observed. Automatically, I replied, "Thank you." Then the text of his sentence caught up with me. Arabic? I examined my 'r' and 'j'. When penning my initials, I link them in a lowercase cursive clump with which I'm sure graphologists would have a field day. What does lowercase say about my feelings about my standing in the world, the loop in my 'r', where the dot falls for my 'j'. Actually, I really just don't like to write a capital 'R' or 'J' and have always felt somewhat prideful about my lowercase cursive 'r'. Squint as much as you like, but my writing is in no way Arabic. But I take it as a feather in my hypothetical cap--it's as close to calligraphy as I will ever be rightfully accused. Too bad, that. I wish I did have more power over my pen.

40 skirts

I've never been someone who often wears skirts. Not to say it's an unknown part of my wardrobe, what with my weekly church "habit" and all for the past three decades. My passion for fashion has not frequently won out over my passion for slouchy c-o-m-f-o-r-t. But, as she often has in the past, my college roommate, Jenny, nudged me into changing my clothing habits. Before meeting her, the only people I had heard discussing the word "season" in relation to clothing was perhaps when the noon duties would get mad at me and Chandra for not wearing proper seasonal winter gear (hey, we were warm-blooded little tykes who were unfairly banned from the metal playground equipment that populated our school playground with un-startling regularity). I still recall the debate over a forest-green, short-sleeved dress freshman year. The color puts it in fall or winter, but the cut places it in summer. See, this is the problem I encounter every time I'm tempted to buy a yellow sweater. Why do the designers seek to confuse us?

I got to spend time with Jenny this past summer in Washington--fabulous visit, awesome kids, brownie sundaes with movie nights that tempted me to move in, topped off with a generous parting gift--a pile of skirts. Luckily, I had the fortunate timing of arriving after Jenny pruned her closet. I left a few with Chandra in Utah, then added them to my own wardrobe up in the high fashion capital of Anchorage, Alaska. After scrounging for adequate hanger coverage, I got curious and started counting. Turned out I own 40 SKIRTS. Of course, some of them are skirts that mark you immediately as a member of a wedding party, but still! Shocked me. So if you've noticed me showing more leg of late, your observations are spot on. I've averaged perhaps a 5:2--at minimum a 4:3--ratio of skirt- to pants-wearing-days a week since July. Admittedly, the long snap of below-zero weather in November was quite a trial to my newfound habit, though.

I still hate nylons.

A Holiday Tale (in 8 verses)

1 A great stillness filled the air as the holiday travelers watched the front door in great anticipation. The threshhold door opened and Madison issued forth an exclamation of great joy at the arrival of her kinfolk. She had won the wager of how late Rahni would be. And though Madison was happy, Amber was not--having guessed wrong.
2 And it came to pass that Rahni shared the story with those gathered of why she was tardy. Having been armed with the knowledge that comes from many years of holiday dinner experiences, Rahni knew that to arrive at two 'o clock would be foolishness. After much time tarrying outside with her treasured snowblower, she retired to the kitchen to follow the green bean casserole teachings of Bethany and Campbell's Soup. A helping of festively cut red bell pepper was added unto the mix.
3 Though obedient to the directions given, the foodstuff did not appear "hot and bubbly" as the promises foretold. Nevertheless, Rahni persevered in her baking until such a time as seemed worthy to quit the oven.
4 With the tale told, the dinner began and Rahni cast her eyes about for sustenance--for her efforts that day were mighty, and her food intake paltry.
5 And Rahni spotted the rolls, and the rolls were good.
6 And Rahni found the eggnog, and the eggnog was good.
7 And Rahni spied the turkey, and the turkey was pink. And she was sore afraid. Indeed, Rahni then fell into a deep consternation, but nevertheless partook of the host-meat, not knowing until later that another bird had been thus prepared--but to a readier "done-ness". Alas.
8 The talk the tables was flowing at some and stilted at others. Rahni's table was filled with guests foreign to her, excepting her niece, Madison. Whence a friendly stranger enquired of another, "And what brings you to Anchorage?", it brought forth the reply, "I'm getting divorced." And lo and behold, an awkward silence filled the land. And yet the holiday-makers made merry long into the afternoon, both family and neighbor alike. And it was good. Amen.

Shields up!

I was caught with my weapons shields down the day before Thanksgiving. Fred Meyer is a dangerous place, I tell you. Due to an indulgent nap after school, I found myself with running out of time to make it to the bank before it closed. I promised a JV basketball player that if he came back to the library on Wednesday, I'd have cash to buy one of the raffle tickets he was hawking. Besides, I've been carrying around these two checks in my purse forEVER. A cash machine would have worked just as well--had I not misplaced my debit card last week.

A N Y W A Y . . .

After my double-take at the longlonglong line that stretched from the mini-bank, past the restrooms, all the way to the jewelry counter, I cannily snatched a book from the store's shelves to while away my time in line. That pleasant dream was shot down by the chatty woman in line ahead of me. I stifled my desire to page through The Guinea Pig Diaries and made polite conversation with my line-mate instead. Several minutes later, I turned to satisfy my curiosity and check if I was the last person for the bank's services. I was (prematurely) glad to find another individual behind me--who wants to be the last person in a line? Having acknowledged the somewhat skeezy-looking guy behind me, I felt compelled--why? why?--to include him in our conversation. And then my primary line of defense abandoned me. My grandmotherly line-mate took a phone call, leaving me to the charms of the weirdo behind me.

Skeeze: Want to see mine?
ShouldHaveBuriedMyselfInABookRahni: Uh, what? (I get really eloquent when flustered. Obviously.)
Skeeze slips me a look at the check he's despositing--$2,900-something dollars.
UncomfortableRahni: Oh, well, good job.
Skeeze brags about earning his check for about a week's worth of work--my mind has wiped this part of the conversation out of my memory. Something about lucky times of the year, I think?
Skeeze (nodding): I'm a gamer.
BaffledRahni: A gamer? (Normally, I'd have clued into his obvious no-social-skills demeanor and figured out what he meant, but I thought he was talking about how he earned his check and was casting about as to what he could mean. Hunts wild game? We are in Alaska, after all.)

Skeeze proceeds to wax poetic about the awesomeness of online gaming, heaping praise upon the World of Warcraft, in particular . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . . (memory wiped again in self-defense). I just don't have any love--or tons of respect--for people who brag about how people yell at them to join the real world and society by putting down the X-Box. MAYBE YOU SHOULD LISTEN. Unfortunately, since my filter was jammed with gamer-gabbing, I was left defenseless to his next inquiry . . .

Skeeze: So, are you single?
AbsentmindedRahni (checking the line progress): Yep.
Skeeze: Can I get your phone number?

I'm sorry, I demurred, I don't have time to date right now/ more excuses / more excuses / etc. I babbled on--as I do--even though I've always heard you should never give more than one excuse--it weakens your defense and comes across as insulting. I usually have a fake boyfriend profile at the ready, but I was caught totally unprepared. The difficult part was that I was stuck in line with this guy for ten more minutes. A guy I just rejected. AWKWARD. In the strained small talk that followed, I almost felt compelled to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner, having learned that he had no family in town. I resisted. Later on, after making it to the seemingly-safe harbor of the teller's booth, I got a tap on the shoulder. Glancing to my left, I was startled anew by my gentleman stalker. He slid a crafty smile towards me along with a note upon which he had thoughtfully penned his contact information, should I feel an inexplicable urge to delight myself with his company. Brave and gutsy, but also extremely hasty and ill-conceived.

Needless to say, though flattered (yet still cringing a little), I won't be calling.

Hearing check

A teacher I know recently taught me an interesting lesson, as teacher tend to do. One day in her classroom, kids were irritated and occasionally calling out, "Turn it off!" The room was silent with (apparently) studiously studying students, though, so she was puzzled. "Turn what off?" Turns out that a student's cell phone was ringing, but she couldn't hear it. That is how I heard about the mosquito ring tone. A ringtone that (most) adults can't hear at that particular frequency, but kids can. 'Course, I can't actually hear it myself, being as ancient and decrepit as I am at 32 years old. It made me feel better that my 16-year-old niece couldn't hear it, either, though. Check it out here--see if you pass the test!

rahniREADS (August '09)

When people ask me what I like to read, I usually shrug and say, simply, "Everything." But I've come to realize that that is not true. I feel no attraction towards books of many genres. Jack Kerouac, Ken Kesey, Laurel K. Hamilton, Thomas Hardy? Not My Style. I'm-Just-Calling-You-Names Current Affairs books, Self Help, New Age, True Crime, most Themed Mysteries (culinary, quilting, etc.), Breathless Bodice Rippers? Not Interested. If you can't express yourself except through prolific clusters of obscenities, I will be skipping your book. I love biographies, but I have no interest in reading about the people who are all, "Look at me and how screwed up I am and how I never try to redeem or improve myself or even think about others, and listen to my dramatic list of all the wrongs done to me and how badly I've been treated in life and each drunken/stoned escapade of my life that I remember, I'm so distracted by staring at my own bellybutton and trying to figure out just what an enigma I am, blah, blah, blah." Forget it. Sometimes I don't realize it's Not To My Taste until too late. I'm already immersed, and can't, can't, can't--CANNOT--abandon yet another book midway through.


Gateway - Frederik Pohl*
~Space angst dissected by computer shrink~
The NPR Commentator and "famous" Seattle librarian, Nancy Pearl, introduced this book to me as an aside during an interview I listened to years ago. Despite that, I will continue to listen to her reviews and continue to delight in her book-recommendation collections, Book Lust and More Book Lust. The story is a SciFi future/space drama, where Earth is on the brink of collapse and humans are looking to colonize new worlds. They've found spaceships built by an unknown alien race that fly pre-programmed routes and--using their extremely limited knowledge--the humans use these ships to help the colonization process. The intriguing thing about this prospect is that they have no idea where the ships with go and, more importantly, how long each flight will last. Sounds like an fascinating read, no? Nope. It wasn't. Beyond that (admittedly) unique and mind-bending idea, the book is stuck in 60's/70's Freudian over-psychoanalyzing, sexual revolution, anti-establishment indignation, etc. Not for me. Stop fighting with your Oedipal urges, computer shrink, disturbingly violent tendencies, and rotating bedmates, Mr. Robinette Broadhead. It's tiresome. And it doesn't make for a compelling story. Thumbs down. (Fiction, Science Fiction>IYLRMO Replay, Kurt Vonnegut)
The Amateur Marriage - Anne Tyler***1/2
~Rash wartime declarations of love wane~
I kept thinking of my sister, Chandra, while reading this book. Not because her marriage at all resembles this book, but because it's a book I'm surprised she hasn't pushed on me. This novel serves as a profile of America through the decades as well as a study of a mismatched marriage. By alternating points of view from chapter to chapter, Ms. Tyler allows us to really dig deeper into these characters lives and perspectives. Though frequently frustrated with this incongruous pair, I quite enjoyed this evening read. (Fiction, Historical (WWII to present)>IYLRMO Before You Know Kindness--Chris Bohjalian, The Scarlet Feather--Maeve Binchy)
Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word - Randall Kennedy***
~Sociologist examines, discusses politically-charged word~
"The word is paradigmatically ugly, racist and inflammatory. But is it different when Ice Cube uses it in a song than when, during the O.J. Simpson trial, Mark Fuhrman was accused of saying it? What about when Lenny Bruce uses it to "defang" it by sheer repetition? Or when Mark Twain uses it in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to make an antiracist statement? Kennedy, a professor at Harvard Law School and noted legal scholar, has produced an insightful and highly provocative book that raises vital questions about the relationship between language, politics, social norms and how society and culture confront racism."--Publishers Weekly
I started reading this book in August 2009 in a B&N break room. My initial introduction to the work, however, occurred about seven(?) years earlier in the only episode of Boston Public that I've ever watched. A racial incident in the classroom prompted the teacher to assign this particular book as a required read. Like a dutifully interested television viewer, I went out, bought this book and added it to my library shelves. Where it sat. And sat. And sat. For years. Inspired by last month's reading choice successes by selecting from my own bookshelves, I turned again to my overflowing library. Let me just say that this book is awkward to carry around in public. After taking in the skeptical or astonished glances, I'd rush to point out the subtitle and blather about how it's a sociological study . . . and on and on. Walking down a sidewalk one day during my lunch break, I even grew self-conscious enough to bend the cover down so that the slow-moving cars didn't send me indignant glares. I found Kennedy to be contradictory at times, as when he seems to applaud Chris Rock and condemn his grandmother for their same usage of the word. This book turned out to be more of a historical study than a contemporary discussion of today's issues. I think it was an interesting read, even brave of the author to even broach such a politically/racially-charged subject, but I was left unsatisfied by the mere listing of examples instead of probing analysis. He did retain the role of independent observor admirably, but I was hoping for actual opinions and discussion. I wish he would have included essays (or something of the like) reflecting different points of view on the subject. "After a while, one wishes for more of an argument than a laundry listing of the word's history of discord." R. Chaffey, Amazon reviewer. (Nonfiction, Cultural Studies/Current Affairs>IYLRMO Black Like Me--John Howard Griffin, He Talk Like a White Boy--Joseph C. Phillips, Honky--Dalton Conley)
Walk Two Moons - Sharon Creech (Book Club)***1/2
~Girl loses mother, learns to live~
See, it's people like Debbie who remind me that I really need to stop judging books so quickly and give them a chance. Once again, when the book club choice was announced for this month, I found myself thinking, "No, not that one!" Didn't voice it, of course. I had successfully ignored this Newberry Award winner on the shelf for years. The cover turned me off, the title bored me, and I didn't even bother reading the synopsis. Perhaps IF I HAD I would have realized the marvelous potential behind that blah cover! Indeed, the moment I finally deigned to read the synopsis on bn.com, I was immediately hooked. Two quotes for you:
"Did he actually KISS my collarbone? And if he did, why did he do that? Was the kiss supposed to land somewhere else, like on my mouth, for example? That was a chilling thought." (Salamanca, p.49)
"She's unconscious," the intern said. "She won't know whether you're here or not."
"Sonny, I've been by her side for fifty-one years, except for three days when she left me for the egg man. I'm holding on to her hand, see? If you want me to let go, you'll have to chop my hand off." (Gramps, p.256)
(Fiction, Young Reader, Newberry>IYLRMO Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry--Mildred Taylor, Maniac Magee--Jerry Spinelli)
When Jesus Came to Harvard - Harvey Cox*****
~Harvard decides students need Moral Reasoning~
Every six months the employees of Barnes & Noble go on mini-shopping sprees due to the bi-annual employee discount sale (an extra 10% off merchandise). Until about two years ago, I was no exception. As much as I tried to reason with myself that just because the books being 40% off now instead of 30% didn't give me license to go crazy, my list of BIWTR (Books I Want To Read) was more persuasive. Two years ago, however, B&N showed us a figure that represented how much we had saved that year through our own personal use of the discount. "That's how much I spent!" I exclaimed, astounded. "No, that's how much you saved." I was so horrified that my spending has gone down DRAMATICALLY at work. Probably not reaction that they were shooting for. Oh well. Anyhow, this book was on my BIWTR list for several years, strangely enough, but was always bumped for other clamoring titles. Until this past summer. That's right, I bought this little beauty for a mere 30% off--didn't even wait to save that extra $1.50. Enough was enough! About the actual book, however . . . it's great. Seriously. Go out and read it. Back in the early 80's, Harvard decided that they needed to require their students to take a class in Moral Reasoning. Armed with just the scholastic bits, their students weren't always applying their newfound knowledge in the most ethical of ways. Of the many courses offered, Harvey Cox was asked to teach a course based on the teachings of Jesus--how to apply his rabbinical teachings, the historical landscape, stories told by and about him to moral situations in our modern day world. The course quickly became one of the most popular classes on campus. Just as the course is for members of all faiths (or even of no religious faith), so is this book. A fabulous book exploring the world-altering life of Jesus and the application of moral reasoning in the 21st century. (Nonfiction, Religion, Philosophy, Cultural Studies>IYLRMO Between the Testaments, No Man is an Island--Thomas Merton, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance--Robert Pirsig)
April Morning - Howard Fast*****
~Revolutionary war battle through teen's eyes~
I can't for the life of me remember where I heard about this Revolutionary War novel, but I do know that I checked it out from my school library back in February or so. And lost track of it, come the end of school, thus making me one of the patrons we dread--people who don't return our books, thus depleting our collection. Midway through the summer, the slim novel popped up from the depths of my closet and I breathed a sigh of relief, set it aside in an obvious place and thought no more about it until school began. I even went so far as to put it in my car to return, but then thought better of it and decided to actually read the book I had held captive for lo these many months. So glad I did! Rod's reading it right now--I'll get him to weigh in soon. Here are a few passages I enjoyed . . .
"We thank the, O Lord, for the bread we eat, but we are also conscious of seed we have planted, of the hands that guided the plow and the back bent in toil. The ground is dry as dust, and I will take the liberty of asking for a little rain. I know that Thou givest with one hand and Thou takest away with the other, but sometimes it seems to me to go beyond the bounds of reason. Amen!" (Father, p.12)
"I thought [the Reverend's proclaiming to confront the advancing British army with words of reason, not with bullets, yet with weapons in hand] was beautifully put . . . I suppose that Father could have bettered it, being used to throwing in an argument at the drop of the hat, but for a reflective man like the Reverend, it was all one could ask. I even began to look forward to his projected exchange with the British, and to imagine some of the things I might say in his place. Just for the sake of peace, I hoped that his thoughts ran to less colorful language than mine." (Adam, p.92)
"I hate to scold you, I really do."
"It would be interesting to see what it would be like here if you enjoyed scolding me."
"Adam, I don't appreciate sarcasm."
"I'm sorry, Mother." (Adam/Mother, p. 42)
(Fiction, Historical, Revolutionary War>IYLRMO All Quiet on the Western Front, Rifles for Watie, Red Badge of Courage (presumably--haven't read this classic yet!))
A Kiss in Time - Alex Flinn**1/2
~Fluffy jump-through-time Sleeping Beauty spin~
A modern day twist to the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale. Not really much more to say than that. It didn't WOW by any means, nor was it really terribly bad. Just a shrug. A half-hearted shrug.
(Fiction, Teen, Retold Fairy Tale mixed with real world>IYLRMO Summers at Castle Auburn--Sharon Shinn, but not as entertaining)
The Siege of Macindaw (Ranger's Apprentice #6) - John Flanagan**1/2
~Will is older and less entertaining~
Do authors think that we have the memory retention of a goldfish? Some authors are just bound and determined to thrust the same character definitions upon us over and over and over and over and . . . I'm thinking this story should have ended two books ago. I do realize that I am not the intended audience, though, and it's perfectly serviceable for the age group it caters to (6-9th grades). It's just lost a lot of its charm. Oh, well. It was a good run. (Fiction, Young Reader, Fantasy>IYLRMO The Last Apprentice series--Joseph Delaney)


(IYLRMO = If you liked/Reminds me of . . .)
***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!
*** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended
*** Better than most
**1/2 (Shrug) Nothing that sticks with you, but fine afternoon reading
** If you're stuck on a deserted island and cloud-watching isn't your thing
* BURN in a fire if you're stuck on a deserted island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)

The (New) Adventures of Steel Bladder and AmBEAR GRYLL

<Imaginary Editor's Note: We regret to inform you that we must accept your entry for our "The Shortest Short Stories Around: 55 Words" competition. We wish to to reject your submission due to the simple reason that it has WELL EXCEEDED 55 WORDS. We wish to, but we can't. It's true, when inserted into a Word document and employing the word count tool, your submission does indeed show an exact 55 words. For the MAIN BODY. And yes, while there were no specific rules laid out in regards to footnotes, that is merely because we did not foresee the entries taking such a subversive and sneaky avenue. Many have tried to smudge the hard and fast rule of 55 words with the unnatural use of hyphens, illegal compound words, and the like, but never before have we been confronted by footnotes. You understand, I presume, that even while you've included a lot of information in such footnotes, they're really only helpful (and of interest) to your own friends and family? Indeed, they are more suited for a blog than a public contest? While perhaps being a fan of brevity (else, why would you enter such a contest?), your entry shows that your tastes lean much towards the (over)use of adjectives, asides and anecdotes. In short? You ramble. We will be amending our contest rules for next year's contest, should you feel compelled to enter again. P.S. Thank you for not continuing your notes to the letter "z"--we realize it must have been tempting.>

The (New) Adventures of Steel Bladder and AmBEAR GRYLL

Scrambling^a past the sign "Eagle River--26 miles^b", Steely^c struggled to keep an injured^d--yet fast-striding^e--AmBEAR^f in sight^g. Winding^h down the valleyⁱ, through^j (not over) the glacier-fed river^k, past the broken beehive^l, plentiful^m bear scat, manyⁿ sauntering hikers^o, until (10 hours later^p) the intrepid adventurers made a disappointing discovery:
No rootbeer^q at rainbow's end.

^a In case I wasn't sure, it was immediately clear from the first five seconds that this would not be a leisurely stroll through the woods. AmBEAR strode away from the car at a pace that would make greyhounds proud. Uphill. We'd start out together, she'd quickly outdistance me (even though I was often taking quicker steps than she was, I still lagged--curses to my short legs!), draw farther ahead, wait for me to catch up, and we'd plunge into another round of the cycle. I told her I'd just meet her at the pass, but she very magnanimously continued her stutter-stop-go rhythm to keep me within eyesight. Perhaps it was because I carried the bear spray? ;o)
^b Official mileage for the trek from Girdwood to Eagle River via Crow Pass has long been a hotly contested debate. Depending on your source, the distance varies from 23 miles to 27 miles (many miles more, if you're like Chandra and AmBEAR of years ago and take many unplanned side trips due to a brief, but debilitating, bout of being directionally-challenged). But the sign said 26 miles, so that's what I'll go with. If we had successfully purloined Rod's Garmin early that morning, I would know for sure--darn it--but we opted to be gracious and let the Hutchings sleep.
^c Though my own given name has always been (unjustly) suspected to be a nickname, I really have made it through most of my life without any nicknames. Should I feel Lucky or Left Out? The noticeable exceptions being when AmBEAR lovingly refers to me as "Twin #2", or the brief time back in high school when Stephen's younger sister, Emily, couldn't pronounce "Rahni" and thus adorably dubbed me "Brownie". Didn't last, though. So I was rather surprised when AmBEAR turned on the trail (after about 20 miles) and said (with a grin), "How're you holding up there, Steel Bladder?" You could just hear the capital letters in her tone. I kind of wish that this nickname came out of nowhere but, alas, there's a story highlighting my stupidity behind it. Let's just say that I'm not a fan of answering the call of nature IN nature. How can I get around that? I pondered. Aha! I'll purposely dehydrate myself, thus ridding myself of the pesky quandary altogether! As you can tell, I'm no Danielle Boone. That genius idea ended with Chandra holding her puny water bottle in the rushing current of a friendly-looking creek about 16 miles in while I chanted, "Please don't kill us, please don't kill us, we have no way to purify you, please don't kill us." Apparently, some people will remember any little story involving foolishness on my part.
^d Bum knee, blistered feet, possible shoulder fracture? That's nothing to athletes such as my sister. And I thought I'd be the stronger one in this adventure. Nope.
^e For awhile I consoled myself that I'd surely excel at the downhill portion of the route. Well, I immediately jammed my big toe in my enthusiasm to pull ahead, thus ended up limping behind AmBEAR once again. On a constant downhill or constant flat route, I could keep pace, but given any uphills? I was toast. Also, around mud. I hate mud. I'm squeamish and tend to slow wa-ay down around the squishy stuff. I was quietly horrified by AmBEAR's unconcerned approach to mud bogs (straight through) and often had to stop myself from leaning forward and brushing off mud splatters from her legs. I know what you're thinking. Poor AmBEAR, why did she choose Steely for a hiking partner? Well, son, pickings were slim and you got to "dance with the one that brought you." Rather, the one that you brought.
^f A word about the nickname . . . genius, right? Not being a Discovery Channel surfer (or wherever you watch nature programs and such), I'm only familiar with Bear Gryll because he's featured on the front of a book that I often have to reshelve at B&N. But Amber is so the female version of him! As far as I can tell, at least. She takes on each ridge and path as though she's insulted it's in her way. Onward, despite pain, despite weariness, hunger, lagging hiking partners and everything. Awesome, awesome endurance and fortitude. AND cheerful and upbeat the whole time? Is she woman or wo-machine? If it's anything but storming weather outside and she's got a free minute, she wants to be out there in the world, taking on any new adventure within reach. Makes me tired, just thinking about her "recreational" time.
^g Beautiful day--fall colors, warm sun, awesome scenery. No wildlife, though, beyond some dogs, a squirrel (chipmunk?) and an unusual bird.
^h At one point, we turned around to see where we had come from only to discover that we had no exact idea where on earth the trail was behind us. Good thing it wasn't an out-and-back hike.
ⁱ Nothing like hiking for miles through brush higher than your head in bear country to keep you on edge.
^j Blessed with bad luck in that river, I've never once crossed at the suggested crossing zone. Neither has AmBEAR. Or, I believe, Chandra. Perhaps if we stopped trying to take shortcuts alongside the riverbank?
^k You can SEE the glacier that provides the swiftly-flowing frigid water that marks the half-way point to Eagle River. I knew I was in trouble when my several-inches-taller sister struggled through water up to her zipper. Both times now that I've crossed this behemoth, I've been blessed by an undesirably clear insight: This is how people die! If I was to trip in this river, there's no way I'd get out--I'd be paralyzed down to my pinky toes with bone-chilling spasms. That river is by far the coldest thing I've ever experienced in my life. When we got to the other side and collapsed on the bank, both AmBEAR and I had to scream and yell to as an outlet for our pain. There are bridges over almost every other wet spot along the trail. WHY NOT HERE?
^l The last time I hiked this trail, Chandra (walking ahead of me) obliviously whacked a beehive with her trekking pole and the bees (being a little slow to catch on) missed their actual antagonist and targeted innocent me. I got five bee stings. Another case of mistaken identity. It's hard to be a twin, sometimes. This time, I wisely avoided bothering the bees swarming around their broken hive that blocked the path.
^m Early on, I asked AmBEAR to point out bear scat, should she see any. For an Alaskan, I've always been remarkably ignorant of what bear scat looks like. Well, no worries, I'm quite educated now. We saw LOTS. Which was informative and illuminating, if not comforting.
ⁿ Not as many as AmBEAR had hoped, though. She was looking forward to passing crowds of 2-day and 3-day hikers. Apparently, the greater Anchorage area decided to spend Labor day not-laboring elsewhere.
^o In particular, one slow-moving group that we passed petitioned us, "If you see a gold Expedition in the parking lot with a guy named Chris, could you tell him we're coming?" And, indeed, we did meet their genial gentleman driver, 1.7 miles from the parking lot, hiking in to meet them. Nice man.
^p I naively thought that it'd take us around 11-12 hours to do this hike, only to find out that AmBEAR was hoping for 8, but allowed for 9 hours (river crossings, stopping for food, etc.). I didn't learn this until we started up up up the trail. In a complete opposite direction than I am prone to take, AmBEAR showed no irritation when our pace didn't meet her expectations. Amazing, really, her positive outlook. She probably had plans for the evening that she had to re-strategize. Seriously, though, I don't see how we failed to meet the 9 hours. We were STRIDING the whole time. Which is kind of sad, actually, that I kept falling behind not because I was stopping, but because I was just a slower hiker.

^qAmBEAR sparked our hopes with memories of a soda machine at the trail's end. We started waxing philosophical about food in general, and about an ice-cold rootbeer, in particular. I even had some Eagle River-soaked singles in my pocket to bring our dreams to life. When we reached the parking lot, I spared nary a glace to our ride home, but headed straightaway to the Nature Center, only to find that it was closed, due to the holiday. Wouldn't you think that destination places like this would be open on such holidays! Sadness. You'd think I'd have known better. One time, back in high school, I was called upon to pick up a weary and ravenous Patrick and Ryan in that same parking lot and they were absolutely starving. We ended up stopping by a convenience store to take the edge off their hunger, as they couldn't wait for Anchorage's all-night fast-food restaurants. This hike burns some calories, I tell you.

Pucker Up

I startled a co-worker the other day with my whistling. He was not, however, as you may have assumed, overcome with shock in regard to my prodigous talent--he was just shocked about my gender. Hmmm . . . that didn't come out quite right. Before you judge (I feel I may say this without undue bragging: I am quite obviously a girl--no ambiguous squinting necessary), let me explain. Turns out that he grew up on an island off the coast of Brazil, and it was accepted in his culture that only men whistled. He's never even heard a whistle from his own sister. Wait till he hears the rendition of Fur Elise that I've been working on! :)P.S. You know how curling your tongue, attached earlobes, etc., are genetically-granted traits and all that? Is whistling? AmBEAR and I were debating this along our Crow Creek trek last week. If so, then how come I can whistle, but my IDENTICAL TWIN CAN'T? It's a puzzle.

Mister Blister

I like to include pictures in my blog (usually obtained from Google>images)--mostly to apologize for the lack of actual pictures from my life--but let me just warn you now: Do not seek out blister pictures! I'm still shuddering. On the inside. This will just be a text post.

Situation: Blister appears on appendage.
Solution: ???

I'm sure that many people, most people, do not devote nearly as much time, worry, or attention to such trivialities as a small-ish blister on their little toe. It took me a little bit of time to even accept the fact that I even had a blister after my 26-mile trek on Monday. I've got oddly-shaped toes. It's an annoyance that I've come to accept as fact. 19 years later, and I still remember Chandra commenting on how her current flirtation partner said she had short, fat feet. (Thanks, Gordon.) ;o) You know, you aim your comment at one twin . . . sometimes it hits them both. Double home run! Strangely enough, though, I haven't gotten a blister in years and years and years, so my recently acquired blemish caused my brow to furrow and my fingers to dial. I asked for advice from everyone . . . track coaches, co-workers, family, Wikipedia. Only to find, after two days or so of research, that my blister had abated on its own. Drama over. Not really worthy of even a whole post entry, but I think the only way to purge those pictures from my mind is virtual transference from thought to blog. Thanks for being the outlet to my horror.

STRANGErs

You know, there are a lot of people in my life.

--customers at the bookstore (having been there for seven years, quite a few people now recognize me)
--school kids (in a school of 2400 kids--not even counting the continuous rollover of new freshman classes and departing senior classes)
--co-workers (a fluctuating near-80 from B&N, as well as 130 from school)
--church members
--family
--family of family
--friends of family (Why do my nieces collect friends in pairs? Two Ambers, numerous Sarahs, etc., etc.)
--friends of my own collected throughout my 32 years
--random acquaintances from those years
--plus all the people out there who mistake me for my twin and just think that they know me and thus smile and wave at me . . .

WHEW. It's just a LOT of people. And, frankly, I've never been good with names. It's often pretty obvious, despite my not-so-subtle ways of covering my ignorance. In fact, I'm inclined throw a faltering, "Hello! No, no, it's so good to see you!" to anyone with a persistant smile.

Back in July, a STRANGEr approached me at the puzzles rack in Barnes & Noble while I was putting away some stray merchandise. Well, I was also casting an appraising eye over the new batch of bamboozlers for my own personal interests. I was startled from my perusal by a politely inquisitive "Are you Rahni?" in my ear. Straightening guiltily, I answered in the affirmative, expecting that perhaps one of my co-workers had sent him to me so that I might help him with a book query.

STRANGEr: Do you remember me? It's Patrick! From East!
(At least I had a name and starting place, though working at the same high school I attended as a youth caused me to wonder East now or East then?)
FakerRahni: Of course! How's it going?
(The conversation continues as I try to stay to general topics, frantically trying to glean knowledge from his answers, only to lead to this . . .)
STRANGEr(namedPatrick): . . . so then I saw you in the store and I had to say hello! (He pulls a wallet-sized photo out of his shirt pocket) Check it out!
StartledRahni: Oh! My senior photo. How . . . surprising.

(For those of you who are thinking, "Stalker! Who walks around with a senior photo from the 90's in their pocket and happens to run into the very subject of the picture? Chance? I think not." These were not my thoughts. I was merely surprised to be confronted with the least favorite of my painfully self-aware poses, and was still frantically trying to place this mysterious "Patrick". I breathed a sigh of relief when I read the inscription on the back and some memories fell into place--Orchestra, lowerclassman, short and blond. I looked at him now--tall, tanned, great smile, still blond. Good changes, overall.)

PrettyPatrick: Yeah, I'm moving to Wyoming and I have all my earthly belongings packed into my truck out there in the parking lot. I found this picture in my instrument case and just had to come in and say "hi". Just too big a coincidence. *engaging grin*

We said goodbye and good luck, and I made my way back to the receiving room to continue my shift. Always with a story on hand, I did not fail to share this gem. Unfailingly, everyone's first reaction was of eyebrow-raised stalker-esque suspicion. I guess I just didn't tell it right. AND, they didn't see him--the years were nice to young Patrick. Strange coincidence, though.

Facebook sans my face

I'm really not a Facebook-er, or a Tweeter, for that matter. I just don't see the appeal. Which is fortunate, actually, because I have virtually no easy way to maintain an account. I'm really only ever on the computer at school (if I manage to shoot off an email or a quick blog post on my lunch breaks, I'm lucky), and Facebook--as well as its dubious predecessor, MySpace--is blocked through the school district filters. I've been assured that if I spent some time cruising around that virtual community, I'd be hooked. I have no doubt that, given time, I would indeed be one of the most devoted of Facebook devotees. (It would have to be A LOT of time, though--why do I care if someone just took a quiz? In the looking I've done so far, I rarely find out what's actually happening in anybody's life. I much prefer reading a blog or an email, if given only electronic options.) But I am ridiculously easy to reel into new gadgets and hobbies. Just taking an errant walk down the cake decorating aisle at Michael's resulted in my cake decorating stash to multiply from a measly spatula and square cake pan, to a cake leveler, a set of differently-sized cake pans, professional icing, and all sorts of other gadgetry. I used the collection once and moved on. Being well aware of my addictive nature, I try not to even glance towards the Spider Solitaire icon that graces many a computer desktop.

Truthfully, though, I caved a few months ago and made a profile. A fake profile, that is. The reason for the false name? The very day I was driven to Facebook (I decided it was finally time to figure out how to get back in contact with my long-lost 10th cousin/college roommate, Dawn--how crazy is that, huh, that my totally random college roommate and I ended up having a common ancestor born in 1607?), I was approached by three random people who recognized me--one quite enthusiastically--but did I have even a sliver of an idea about who they were? Not a clue. I'm really not seeking out more moments like that in my life. Plus, am I looking for more ways to disappoint people who are already in my life with even more ways to snub them through lack of regular communication? Nope. Though I don't really intend to snub! It's just that I'm a really bad corresponder!! You, know, my advice is to just expect it. Expect me to fail to stay in touch. Doesn't mean I'm not thinking of you! (Eve and I totally have this understanding down. I know she's not offended if months and months go by and vice versa. It's a very relaxing relationship.) Don't lift your hopes up just to see them crashing down later. Isn't that just the worse defense? "Don't blame me, I'll never get better?" Hmmm . . . I'll work on it. Still, though, regard this message as a caveat to knowing me.

It's really quite amazing that I've continued this blog now for a year--minus June, that is. It is, after all, some form of communication, or at least of journalling. Never kept that up for a year, either. Ah . . . it's a brand new world.

P.S. Gail, I don't know if I'm the R.J. you referred to in your Facebook post, but that's what inspired this rambling explanation!

I'm flexing my fingers

There's a bit of exhilaration in the air when Fall rolls around. Parents are excited to see spazzy children sent off to contained classrooms--even the kids themselves feel a jangle of nerves and tingles of excitement as they purchase new school supplies and contemplate how to decorate their lockers. Some people think of freshly-sharpened pencil bouquets, others dream of cute new outfits to show off to friends--I start flexing my fingers. Summer just does not beckon one to bouts of ferocious industry. It's a lazy, languorous haze of sleeping in, driving with the windows down, forgetting the date (or even the day) when you finally have to write it down again--even being able to spend time with friends! I don't usually get a whole lot of productive projects done in the summer. Finding a computer to keep up communication with friends is almost too taxing to consider, when such other (easier) options to lull one away. But my 9 1/2 digits are feeling limber, finally, so watch out! A plethora of posts are forthcoming!

Have you heard the news?

Archie is choosing Veronica! I can honestly say that I never thought I'd see the day. The fact that any decision will be made at all after 70 years of waffling is shocking enough, but Veronica? I'm not sure how I feel about that. Check out this article from npr.org.

rahniREADS (July '09)

This was a STANDOUT month--here's three cheers for looking to one's own shelves for good reads! Five out of the eight books I read this month were just outstanding (I didn't count the reread in my tally). Ironically enough, all five were books from my own collection, some of which have been listlessly gathering dust for several years, due to shabby neglectfulness on my part. See, there is a valid reason for buying stacks of books at a time, even when you know that you can't give them all the proper attention they deserve. One rainy July, you just may need an unread, uncracked spine to settle down with. My goodness, I found myself marveling (rather boastfully), what good taste I had when I picked out these books! Of course, it's all too true that I've chosen some dreary duds as well, but not in this fine selection of past purchases! Okay, bragging has ceased. Read on.

(P.S. I'm so bitter right now because somehow I erased my comments on How Soccer Explains the World as well as Paris to the Moon, and now have to retype those entries! Grrrr . . . )

Magic Hour - Kristin Hannah**1/2
~Psychiatrist loses street cred, gains life~
(Library book) Not as good as the other Kristin Hannah book I read. An okay read, but I'm thinking that I'd like others of hers better. That's pretty much all I have to say about this book. Not so eloquent today, I guess. ;o) (Fiction, Modern day, Northwest>IYLRMO Jodi Picoult, Maeve Binchy)
The Name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss*****
~Simply the best current fantasy available~
(Owned for 6 months before cracking open) You know, I purposely didn't read this book after I bought it. Thought I'd be smart and wait until the second book of this trilogy came out before testing out the first book. Sarah G. has been enthusiastically campaigning for me to read this novel for well over a year now. So what do I do? Wait until I have a fun vacation planned and take a 722 page book with me (sorry, Chandra!). Such actions do not make for social houseguests. Poor niece and nephew--it took me over an hour to read the last 7 pages because I tried to multitask entertaining children with ignoring said children. It's a delicate balancing act. Extremely engrossing book--the next one is due out in October! Unfortunately, I did not know that pertinent bit of information before I read it. I just assumed (with no actual knowledge) that book two was out. At least while I've been waiting I've successfully pressed it on my friend John. I feel a little bit bad about that, though, because--though I mentioned it was the first book in a trilogy, I purposely did not mention that no subsequent books were published yet. (Fantasy>IYLRMO George R. R. Martin, Terry Goodkind, Robert Jordan)
A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens****
~French Revolution targets family, heroics ensue~
(Owned for years before cracking open) My first unabridged Charles Dickens! A success! I've discovered something that millions of people already know (obviously)--Charles Dickens was a fabulous writer. Memorable characters, shrewd social commentary, humorous conversations, witty wordplay, well-woven plot. Lately, the B&N Classics fixture has been targeting me with a reproachful look when I pass it by. As much as I love books, as much as I love to read, I realize that I have neglected the classics. The closest I've come to most of them are those square kid abridgements that have a picture every fourth page. (My 7th grade English teacher was not pleased when I tried to claim that I had already read Captains Courageous--even though it was just 64 pages.) So I decided I needed to read a Dickens. Of course, I took it easy on myself and chose one of his smallest--and one which I had (back as a little tyke) already familiarized myself with. I was a bit hesitant to approach this tome--my last foray into the unabridged classics left me feeling like I had learned something dispiriting about a childhood friend. Three Musketeers was a much more beloved tale when left to ruthless abridgemets, or on the big screen. Nothing but a bunch of partying idiots who weren't hugely patriotic and easily distracted from their quests by slight insults that must be challenged. Move on! I did. But Dickens did not disappoint. I believe I'll check out Bleak House or Great Expectations next. (Fiction, Classic, Historical England>IYLRMO Oscar Wilde)
The Splendor of Silence - Indu Sundaresan****
~Half-American/Indian daughter learns family's past~
(Owned for close to 2 years before cracking open) After finishing Great Expectations, I wasn't ready for current American fiction, so I turned an author I'd read before and could trust to tell a great story. Strangely enough, though I loved her first two books (The Twentieth Wife and Feast of Roses), and had actually bought this next book qute a while ago, I'd never even read the synopsis on the back cover. When you think of WWII fiction, does India spring to mind? Even Burma? I mostly think of Western Europe, or perhaps the Pacific theatre. Not the troubles experienced in Asia. I learn so much from every book Sundarensan writes, plus, the stories are worthwhile, the characters well-developed, and the settings are so real you want to take shelter when you read of the sand storms. I exclaimed to my sister, Amber, "This book is fantastic! What a great read!" She regarded me somewhat bemusedly and replied, "I know. I've read it. You bought it for me. Awhile ago." In fact, it was a rather ironic exchange, seeing as how I introduced her to this author, and now she has overtaken me! I can't wait to read her next novel--The Convent of Little Flowers! (Fiction, WWII India>IYLRMO Jhumpa Lahiri,The Alchemist)
The Piano Shop on the Left Bank - Thaddeus Carhart****
~Piano's history and allure eloquently explained~
(Owned for several years before cracking open) A conversation with my sister. "I'm reading a really great book about this American ex-pat who lives in Paris and passes this little piano store every day, wondering about it but never allowed entrance. So he tries to gain entrance into the exclusive back room, and you learn all about the history of pianos, etc., etc." I raved. Pause. "You know," she said, "Hearing that summary, if I didn't actually know you, I'd think that you had nothing to do all day." In fact, I had worked an eight-hour day, walked the dog, visited with a sick friend (and brought homemade--well, "Betty Crocker mix homemade"--brownies to said friend) and cleaned out my car (not a short project). Having no real ear for music, despite m a n y years of playing the violin and dabbling on the piano, I was quite captivated by Mr. Carhart's tale. I've never heard anyone describe music so eloquently, and with such an infectious enthusiasm. I'm always grateful to the authors who can keep my undivided attention through a book, but especially when the book centers on a topic that I'm not particularly interested in (I remember the same thoughts after having read Nick Hornby's soccer memoir Fever Pitch, or Michael Lewis' Moneyball). Good writing, indeed. (Non-fiction, Paris, pianos/music>IYLRMO The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Paris to the Moon (of course))
Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins (Book Club re-read, see April '09 rahniREADS)
Paris to the Moon - Adam Gopnik****
~Writer raises young son in Paris~
(Owned for several years before cracking open) One of my favorite quotes from this collection of essays about yet another ex-pat in Paris, though this one writes for The New Yorker. (Questioning a friend as to why the women are fanning themselves at a haute coutre event that is unseasonably cold) "She looked around the salon and made the encompassing shrug-and-pout-and-flex-your-hands-from-the-wrist French gesture that in the context meant that the apparent absurdity of the act of fanning yourself in the cold is no more absurd than the whole enterprise of traveling to Paris to look at clothes that you will never wear, displayed on models to whom you bear no resemblance, in order to help a designer get people who will never attend shows like this someday to buy a perfume or a scarf that will give them the consoling illusion that they have a vague association with the kind of people who do attend shows like this—even though the people who attend shows like this are the kind who fan themselves against July heat that happens not to exist." (p. 130) Oh, and when he describes his young son rising from his pram ("a cobra in mittens") and swaying to the hypnotic tunes piped overhead the department store's PA system! I love it. (Nonfiction, memoir, Paris>IYLRMO Idyll Banter, by Chris Bohjalian)
How Soccer Explains the World: An Unlikely Theory of Globalization - Franklin Foer**
(Owned for several years before cracking open) I'd always liked the cover of this book and the title. I still like the cover and the title--though I doubt the veracity of the rather dubious claim the latter makes. I think I should have stuck with Thomas Friedman when it comes to globalization theories. Despite the catchy name and interesting metaphor, the only thing I really feel that I learned from this book is to never attend a soccer game outside the U.S. (a point I don't think Mr. Foer was trying to make--nonetheless, it stuck). (Non-fiction, Current Affairs, Globalization>IYLRMO Thomas Friedman, Benjamin Barber)
Twenties Girl - Sophie Kinsella ***
~Londoner connects with kindred dead aunt~
(Borrowed from B&N within two weeks of its release) Much to my surprise, I loved Kinsella's Shopaholic book series when I read it last year. Such fluffy fun! I was kind of relieved to find some ChickLit that I enjoyed, because I constantly get asked for those kinds of recommendations at the store. I can never knowledgably answer such queries, however, because I've never read Jennifer Weiner, Candace Bushnell, Jane Green, Emily Giffin, etc., etc. Reading Sophie Kinsella hasn't converted me to the Sex and the City crowd, however, but I'm glad to have an author somewhat in that same genre (but cleaner) to offer to the single-city-girl readers. Shopaholic will always be my favorites of hers (if her stand-alones to date are of any indication), but this was a fun, light read as well! (Fiction, Modern day>IYLRMO well, all the authors listed above, though I haven't read them)

(IYLRMO = If you liked/Reminds me of . . .)
***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!
*** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended
*** Better than most
**1/2 (Shrug) Nothing that sticks with you, but fine afternoon reading
** If you're stuck on a deserted island and cloud-watching isn't your thing
* BURN in a fire if you're stuck on a deserted island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)

rahniREADS (June '09)

I decided that June would be my "library book" month. I probably have the wrong attitude toward library books, but I never expect them to be life-changing or anything remarkable like that. These are books I don't intend to buy--thus I don't expect to like them enough to pass on or purchase, but they fit the need to fill the "beach read" portion of my summer. Roger Ebert has taught me something interesting within some of his reviews. Sometimes a movie that you would expect to get slammed by him doesn't, mainly because Ebert recognizes that the film hit what it was aiming for. It wasn't aiming for an Oscar, just a good way to facilitate eating popcorn with friends, and it achieved that small goal. So, I wasn't thrilled by most of my library reads this month, but I didn't hold it against them because I didn't expect them to be great. Doesn't mean they weren't books worth reading, they just didn't wow me. (By the way, since I'm always tinkering with rahniREADS entries, IYLRMO translates to If You Liked/Reminds Me Of.)
Enemy (Jack Reacher #8) - Lee Child **1/2
~Soldier's son investigates conspiracy involving bigwigs~
(Library book) I thought it was strange that Nancy Pearl recommended to readers to start with book 8 of the Jack Reacher series, but--ever obedient--I ignored 1-7 and plunged into book 8. Book 8 takes us back in time to the very early 80's and is chock full of "period" details that no one who actually wrote books in the 80's included, primarily--one assumes--because they didn't know that the details would become so antiquated, so stereotypical of the times. But it makes for fun reading later for us here in the 21st century! A good action/adventure read (I still prefer Vince Flynn, but I'll have to check out Lee Child's other books to see what makes this flashback book so significant). (Fiction, Action/Adventure>IYLRMO Vince Flynn, Stephen Hunter, Brad Thor)
Never Tell a Lie - Hallie Ephron **1/2
~Jealous past classmate haunts surburban couple~
(Library book) Aches to be a beach read--if only I had a beach! A book to borrow from the library, but not to buy. Kind of reads like a cross of a Desperate Housewives episode (I've only ever seen the pilot, but it deals with suburbia, female relationships, intrigue/mystery, neighborhoods and everything too, right?) and a Mary Higgins Clark book. A good read-before-bed book, I'm thinking. (Fiction, Suspense, Modern>IYLRMO Harlan Coben, female-style)
Sundays at Tiffany's - James Patterson *
~Woman crosses paths with childhood imaginary friend~
(Library book) There are a few authors out there of whom I've read their books, but I can't really say I'm actually familiar with their body of work, their style. That's because I've only ever read the books they've written where they've strayed from their norms--namely, David Baldacci (I've read Wish You Well, and The Christmas Train, but his books are usually much more in the Brad Thor vein) and James Patterson (I've read Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas, Sam's Letters to Jennifer, and a bit of The Jester). I was in the mood for Patterson's first foray into the softer side of the publishing world (Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas), but it's gone downhill since there. Wow, I just kept hoping this book would get better. SDfN seemed to be a more thoughtful, original piece by the author, but Sunday's at Tiffany's tries too hard to be ChickLit, and the ridiculous plot and the insipid characters do not redeem the overreaching, the addition of a female co-author (Gabrielle Charbonnet) notwithstanding. (Fiction, Modern w/Guardian Angels>IYLRMO Nicholas Sparks)
Belong to Me - Marisa de los Santos (mp3) ****
~Citydwellers in brave new world--suburbia~
Read this book just to follow the storyline of newly-introduced Piper Truitt, reigning Queen of the Neighborhood. I love Cornelia and Teo, but I was always disappointed when we stopped following Piper's thread to go to another character's story arc. I listened to this book mostly while running--or, rather, I intended to listen to this book only while running. It lasted through the 16-miler to Eagle River (thanks for the ride home, Bethany!) and many other jaunts, but I found that I couldn't (actually, wouldn't/was too lazy to/etc.) only treat myself to this tale just while exercising. I ended up with an earbud attached to me while cleaning my room, driving to work, and while walking to the grocery store on my lunch break. Really wonderful three dimensional characters, captivating conversational prose and, seriously, is this a great cover or what? (Fiction, Modern>IYLRMO Chris Bohjalian)
Catching Fire (Hunger Games #2) - Suzanne Collins****
~Back the arena--break the cycle?~
A little gloating must ensue: I got to read this book MONTHS early by finding it in a stack of Advance Reader books that get sent to B&N. No one else noticed it, so voila! Of course, Ms. Collins leaves this book teetering on a cliffhanger that had me shouting, "WHAT? Are you KIDDING me?" Thus the early exposure makes the wait for #3 seem even longer. Even though I'm typing this in the last days of August, the book still isn't out yet, so I can't say anything more except hurry up and write me some more, Suzanne! (Fiction, Teen, Fantasy>IYLRMO Cinda Chima, The Alliance--Gerald N. Lund)
A Long Way Down - Nick Hornby **
~Four suicidal jumpers improbably band together~
(Library book) I really should say nothing here at all except that this book was Not To My Taste, Not My Cup Of Tea. In Mr. Hornby's excellent column in The Believer, wherein he publishes witty thoughts and such about literature, the act and art of reading, reviews, etc., he never writes negatively. One can only assume this takes a massive amount of willpower, because it can be great fun to be scathing and cutting when putting pen to paper. Or fingers to keyboards. The plot was original, the characters unique, but, frankly, the sheer quantity of foul language in this book so distracted me that I couldn't at all appreciate any of the book's finer attributes. Can't think of why I even finished reading it, really. (Fiction, Modern>IYLRMO Then We Came to the End, the movie Joe vs. the Volcano (but not funny like that one))
Housekeeping vs. the Dirt - Nick Hornby ****
~Avid reader continues chronicling purchases/reads~
Disheartened by A Long Way Down, I immediately turned to another of Nick Hornby's books--a collection I had only briefly paged through before. Again, much like The Polysyllabic Spree and Shakespeare Wrote for Money, I was treated to some prime entertainment by a kindred soul in the literary world. Basically, if you're reading these words I'm typing, then you will really enjoy this trilogy of column collections. Reading The Polysyllabic Spree is what made me want to start chronicling my own reading adventures. Blame him! (Nonfiction, Literary Theory>IYLRMO A. J. Jacobs' The Know-It-All)
The Art of Racing in the Rain - Garth Stein *****
~Dog wants thumbs, happiness for all~
This book is narrated by a dog. There! I said it. Man, have I been reading a bunch of animal books of late. An unlikely mix of zen, autoracing, dogs believing in reincarnation, family love/tension, custody battles, false assault charges, all told from the canine perspective. Shortly after Chandra read Dog On It, she called and asked me to guess what book she was currently reading. She was somewhat astounded when I immediately guessed The Art of Racing in the Rain. Well, really, how many books for adults are there out there that are narrated by dogs? So it wasn't as impressive as if first seemed, darn it. Through her persuasion (now, isn't that a turning of the tables?) I picked up this book and was quickly immersed by this wise narrator with his intelligent observations and humorous insights. I have NEVER been interested in anything autoracing before, but seen from the perspective of a dog? What a ride. The car goes where the eyes go. So true. P.S. I just got Amber to read it as well and she was quite a fan, tears and all! (Fiction, Modern>IYLRMO Dog On It, Shadow of the Wind)
The Underneath - Kathi Appelt *****
~Dog, cats bond in Southern Bayous~
As I was growing up (didn't grow too high, though, you notice) family, friends, even neighbors knew immediately when I had been in the vicinity of a Crocodile Dundee VHS. I sauntered around for quite too long with a generously thick accent from "Down Under" everytime I viewed the fluffy flick. I'm easily influenced by rhythm, or by unusual and unfamiliar speech patterns. To this day, it's easy to tell if my sisters or I have been near Tyler Clark. After getting a few pages of this book I was pulled into the slow and lyrical rhythm of the South and started echoing the unique speech style in my mind. Simply swept away. Do not, do not, oh do not miss this book. (Fiction, Young Reader>IYLRMO Where the Red Fern Grows, Mildred Taylor, Brer Rabbit, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane)
A Long Way From Home - Tom Brokaw ****
~Newscaster details roots, raised by WWIIers~
As if I didn't respect Tom Brokaw enough before this book (despite my limited exposure to all things News), this book cements my high regard for this straightforward, industrious, honorable man. The best example of the most admirable qualities taught to the Baby Boomers and the pre-Baby Boomers by the members of "The Greatest Generation". Well-written by a well-spoken gentleman. (Nonfiction, Memoir, History>IYLRMO Crow Lake, Peace Like a River)
City of Bones (Mortal Instruments #1) - Cassandra Clare ****1/2
~Mother disappears, Clary needs Shadowhunters' help~
City of Ashes (Mortal Instruments #2) - Cassandra Clare ****1/2
~Downworlders dying, Valentine not so sweet~
City of Glass (Mortal Instruments #3) - Cassandra Clare ****1/2
~Enter Glass City to save Mom~
During a break at B&N, I found that I wasn't quite in the mood to delve back into The Greatest Generation and looked for something lighter. I'd passed this series all the time in the store, kids at the school loved it, but I never really considered it for myself before. I'm so glad that I picked it up! Such an enjoyable weekend of reading. My plan was to take books two and three with me on vacation to Oregon/Utah, but you know what they say about making plans. Mine, too, went awry. I couldn't stop reading--read straight through in two or three days. Humorous characters, deep friendships, good plot pacing, chemistry between the main characters--just a great series. I immediately thrust it upon my niece, my sister, and my friends. In fact, Chandra greeted me on the phone one day with the declaration that I was evil, because she had started one of the books at 11pm and couldn't put it down, and WHY did I put all three books on hold for her at the library at the same time? Apparently, I crippled her work productivity. "But," I reasoned, "Isn't it better to get them all at once rather than waiting as number 114 on the list to find out what happened next?" She reluctantly agreed. Another convert--mwah ha ha! (Fiction, Teen, real world mixed with fantasy elements>IYLRMO Stephenie Meyer but better, Suzanne Collins)
The Things We Do For Love - Kristin Hannah ***
~Couple yearns for their own children~
(Library book) I missed my plane in the airport. Really, this hasn't happened to me all that often in my life, just lately, is all. At 2AM I settled down sadly onto those "cozy" airport chairs to sleep until my next flight, which was scheduled for a 7AM potential takeoff. Stupidly, I pulled this book from my carry-on to read for "a few minutes". Boy, did I not get a lot of sleep that night. A great vacation book--just a story about some everyday people with everyday concerns, who you hope things work out best for. SPOILER ALERT! I'm glad that the author didn't finish the book with an obvious ending. I mean, all signs pointed to her attaining the Happily Ever After she wished for from the beginning of the book, but instead she grew emotionally and received a much better ending, bound to make her happier than she ever thought. (Fiction, Modern>IYLRMO Maeve Binchy)
The Alchemyst - Michael Scott **
~Twins help Flamel protect magical secrets~
I struggled through this book while in vacation in Oregon. So little interest. So little sympathy for the characters. SO LITTLE INTEREST. What are so many people attracted to? I mean, it's a popular book (I know, I sell plenty of them), but why? I'm slightly interested to see what happens next, but I'd rather someone summarized it into (at most) three sentences, rather than slog through the next book. Hmmm . . . I'll be looking online for any future revelations of what happens to these twins. Maybe. (Fiction, Teen, real world mixed with fantasy elements>IYLRMO Fablehaven)

***** READ IT RIGHT NOW!
**** Would definitely pass it on to others--highly recommended
*** Better than most
**1/2 ~shrug~ Not bad, not great
** If you're stuck on a deserted island and cloud-watching isn't your thing
* BURN in a fire if you're stuck on a deserted island (even if it's a hot, tropical island)