January 2008 - Posts
Eat Pray Love
I just read Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert, and enjoyed it immensely ... mostly. It's neither brilliant not transforming, but it is a delightful read ... mostly. Some of what I came away with was envy: I want to go to Italy to focus on pleasures. I want to go to India to focus on a deeper spiritual life. I want to go to Bali for a million reasons. Unable to actually board that plane, there was enjoyment in sharing the experience vicariously.
The book satisfied a sometimes-need for escapism, and felt like drinking with a friend whose storytelling talents make her a good companion. She owns up to some of her flaws: wanting to be the focus of attention, rudely interrupting others, a lifelong "need" for a man, and the conflict of societal expectations and personal ambitions. Familiar songs sung in harmony with my own women friends. There's always a comfort in knowing your deepest flaws are common. But Gilbert's just too darned fortunate and likeable to ever be your best friend.
Again, this is not a transforming book for the reader, and by the end you wonder how genuine or longlasting Gilbert's own transformations have been. It's a light read, in fact one reviewer compares it to a Jennifer Aniston movie, and I agree. But sometimes I like Jennifer Aniston movies, and this book has the added value of being a superb travelogue.
For more about the book, check out many reviews here:
http://www.powells.com/biblio?show=HARDCOVER:NEW:9780670034710:24.95#synopses_and_reviews
Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith
If you're looking for something more cerebral and elucidating, I highly recommend Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith, by Jon Krakauer. Also nonfiction, it's an academic history of the Mormons and the Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints, animated by reportage of a double homicide committed by fundamentalist perpetraters under guidance of their God. It's a huge chunk of a read, but gripping enough that co-workers quickly tired of my enthusiastic retellings of the previous night's reading.
Given that's Mitt Romney is shaping up to be a presidential candidate many consider viable, it's also a timely subject. Much of what mainstream America thinks they know about Mormonism is actually a reflection of the splinter fundamentalist sect that still practices polygamy and what is widely accepted as child rape. However, even a accurate and academic recounting of the genesis and evolution of mainstream Mormonism is still rife with the bizarre and alarming.
For more about this book: http://www.bookbrowse.com/reviews/index.cfm?book_number=1294
I'll be out of town next week, so I went to the courthouse this morning to cast my vote early. I took my 6-year-old son with me this morning so he could get a glimpse of democracy in action.
Along the way we had a conversation about who we would vote for, and he said his candidate was "the brown and white man," Barack Obama. The poll workers welcomed Jack enthusiastically, and even allowed him to cast a ballot. Granted, I filled in the circle of my choice first, but he placed the ballot in the machine. The kid was smart enough to know that he had, in fact, cast my ballot for a candidate not of his choosing. In his anger, he complained about this miscarriage of the democratic system (my words), and said that if that's the way the sytem works (his words), he was never voting again.
I was proud of him for understanding the importance of his vote, and for having the heart to be outraged by what he perceived to be his stolen vote. But I did worry that he was a little young to be disenfranchised.
Because all of this made him a little late for kindergarten, I had to sign him in at the school office when we arrived. Jack very proudly showed the office staff his own "I Voted" sticker, and asked the secretary to make a note on his tardy pass explaining why he was coming in late. Bless her heart, she not only wrote it down, she called ahead to his teacher to let her know Jack had something very important to share with the class.
A minute later I was stooping down to kiss him good-bye, but he said he didn't have time for a kiss because he had a speech to give.
It's not every day that I attempt to instill a value by modeling it and see success so immediately. Some days, I feel like a really good mom.
Save your marriage with shortlisting. When the answer to "where do you want to go for dinner", is answered with an unenthusiastic "I don't care," shortlist. One person names three restaurants, the other picks. Spouse has limited success in selecting gifts for you? Shortlist, and then be surprised which he chooses. This usually works for movies, too. And if we'd used this method the other night one of two things would have happened: We would have skipped Sweeney Todd all together, or I could have shared the blame with my husband.
In my defense, we both like Tim Burton's movies. Gore and perversion with a twisted, black sense of humor is our kind of humor. That Sweeney Todd is a musical was not a selling point for my husband, but I talked him into Moulin Rouge and he liked that. Johnny Depp is a sure bet, especially when collaborating with Burton. We were both familiar with the story line: barber slashes throats; girlfriend neatly disposes of the bodies by baking them in her meat pies. What's not to like?
In a word: excess. It's not like we didn't expect slashed throats to bleed. It's not like we thought there would be only one slashed throat. But, the blood keeps spurting and splashing and pooling and streaming, victim after victim after victim. And Todd, again and again, continues singing while drenched in the stuff. And, without giving away too much, let it be said that gravity is not a friend to Todd's customers.
The production, the writing, the acting, the vocals ... all wonderful. But the only bit of humor is Helena Bonham-Carter's Mrs. Lovett and her disgusting eatery, and this was not enough to balance all the gore and blood.
I'm not recommending that you steer clear of Sweeney Todd, I'm just warning you that it's not typical Burton, and it's more than a little hard to sit through. It's worth seeing if only to be able to join in the conversation.
I know a few housekeeping tips, not because I'm such a good housekeeper, but because I hate housekeeping! My conscience wouldn't allow me to present these tips without that disclaimer. And, yes, I know this is not interesting reading, but if it makes your life easier to slog through this, I've done my good deed for the day.
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Better yet, use regular dishcloths in the kitchen. You can toss them in the washing machine with bleach to clean and disinfect them, and they'll last for years so they're easier on the environment that the sponge that's going to be thrown out after a couple weeks.
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Never work on a single housekeeping project for more than 20 minutes at a stretch. Set a timer then go on to something else. You can come back to it 20, 40 or 60 minutes later, but it'll keep you from feeling so overwhelmed or burning out as quickly, and you'll get a lot done in a lot of different areas. And you'll be amazed how much you can get done in 20 minutes. Need lunch? 20 minutes. Need to make some phone calls? 20 minutes. Then back to work for 20 minutes. No kidding, this one is a huge help. And if you have a kid you want to pitch in, that 20 minute timer makes it bearable for them, and you can turn it into a game.
And finally, if you can swing it, it's a wonderful thing to pay someone else to clean your house once in a while. You'll have to do a certain amount of cleaning before they get there, e.g. horizontal surfaces that have grown piles of papers and stuff on them, but let them dust and vacuum, scrub floors, run the dishwasher, toss in a load of towels or sheets.
Because it's been a long time since I paid someone to clean house for me even on an occassional basis, I've thought it would be a wonderful thing to swap housecleaning with a friend -- of course you want this to be a friend whose housekeeping is on par with your own! Sadly, no one has ever taken me up on, which I can't help but take as a statement about my own hovel-keeping! Or maybe other people are so overwhelmed by their own mess they can't stand the idea of taking on someone else's. Or maybe it's just too embarrassing to let someone else get up close and personal with their mess. Still, I'm game if someone else is.
And if one of your New Years resolutions was keeping a cleaner house, you might be underestimating other areas of your life that needs improvement. But, far be it from me to be judgemental. If that's your thing, check out Fly Lady (http://www.flylady.net/). I've tried this site, but find it fairly annoying. On the other hand, she does have lots of good ideas -- the 20 minute thing came from here. A hint: do not sign on for her emails!
The first I'd ever heard of Martin Luther King was when I read of his death in my second grade Weekly Reader. That was probably the first and only time even the mention of any person of color had taken place within the walls of our homogeneous midwestern elementary school, or within the pages of Weekly Reader. I didn't grasp the larger context, but I knew for sure it meant something big was happening in the world.
During the time of race riots, neighbors began arming themselves and planning for their families' defense. One particularly chivalrous neighbor came over to advise my mother that if the uprising spread, she should bring her children to his house where he'd make sure we were all kept safe.
A few years later, our small town's beloved barber was murdered during a robbery. Within the day rumors abounded of the drug-crazed negro man responsible. But the murderer turned out to be a white guy. All other details of the event escape memory.
Twenty years later I had moved to Florida and, in pursuit of a Newspaper Journalism degree, chose a small, historically black university over the much larger university that offered only a Mass Media Communications degree. People ask if I liked FAMU. I answer no, I didn't particularly "like" the experience of being the only white woman in many of my classes, but that it was an invaluable experience. What would I have known of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Zora Neale Hurston, Richard Wright, Gordon Parks or W.E.B. DuBois if I'd chosen differently? What would I have known of what was going on during those riots and why?
Our children go to integrated schools now. All career fields are available to people of all colors and we all work together -- until 5:00.
I'm not complaining, though. Most of the year it's so blazing hot and the sun so brutal, these days of cloud cover are welcome and easier on the eyes. It's a reminder that seasons change and time passes. Or maybe I have a slight masochistic streak. I'm from northeastern Ohio (does the phrase lake effect snow mean anything to you?), where people seem to believe in original sin; nothing else can explain being punished so harshly by the climate gods.
Sometimes I dither. I've been dithering about blogging for years. Dithering about what to say and what not to say. About whether people will know it's me. About whether they'll like me. About whether they'll understand.
Some of my flakier friends claim that the universe is kind and generous and gives you what you need. Well the universe recently sent two blessings my way.
Blessing #1: Somewhere I came across this little pearl of wisdom: You'd worry a lot less about what other people think of you if you only knew how seldom they do. Somehow that was very freeing.
Blessing #2: My boss told me I have to learn blog if I want to continue getting paid. Well alrighty then. Look at me blog, Baby! Just look at me blog!
So here's some stuff I'll be blogging about ... because I can:
I'm a middle-aged woman with a six-year-old child. Of course I love my boy, and of course I've thanked God (or the universe) a million times for giving me this amazing child. But somehow that doesn't change the fact that I sometimes feel like a dog who actually caught the car it was chasing. So here I am at 48 with a mouth full of chrome.
Another pearl of wisdom: It's very, very important to be able to laugh at yourself.
I adopted a dog a couple months ago. I wasn't working at the time, the carpet in the new house was already trashed, and my son wouldn't quit begging. They say it's good for a kid to have a dog. They say the best way to get over the heartbreak of losing an elderly dog after loving her for 11 years is to get another dog. I waited four years until I was absolutely certain my husband would forgive me.
See above about the importance of being able to laugh at yourself.
Again, of course I love my dog (our dog). She's a 60-pound American Bulldog/Labrador Retriever mix. They told me at the shelter that she was two years old. Being a responsible dog owner, I immediately took her to the vet. Oh, how she laughed when I introduced her to my two-year-old dog. She pointed out the still-emerging canine teeth and explained that the dog was in fact maybe nine months old. My husband has forgiven me.
Life is rich. Life is good. I'm surrounded by love. Like a mantra I repeat it. It's especially important to be able to laugh at yourself when so many other people are already laughing at you.
And, I will restrain myself as long as I can, but my 24-year-old nephew will be shipping out to Afghanistan soon. I tried to keep my mouth shut last year when he was in Iraq, but I wasn't very good at it. Now I kinda figure having someone I love actively engaged in these wars gives me the right.