One Book Meme

Can't resist the book-themed ones...

One book you’re currently reading: Anna Karenina, Tolstoy
One book that changed your life: Something Wicked This Way Comes, Bradbury
One book you’d want on a deserted island: Something really big. How about Tolstoy's Collected Works?
One book you’ve read more than once: Little Women, Lousia May Alcott
One book you’ve never been able to finish: Bel Canto, Ann Patchett
One book that made you laugh: Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris
One book that made you cry: The Kite Runner. I cried through the entire last half.
One book you keep rereading: The Lord of the Rings
One book you’ve been meaning to read: Blade Runner, Philip K. Dick
One book you believe everyone should read: A collection of Grimm's fairy tales
Finally, Grab the nearest book. Open it to page 56. Find the fifth sentence.
"Her bright grey eyes which seemed dark because of their black lashes rested a moment on his face as if recognizing him, and then turned to the passing crowd evidently in search of some one."

The Man Who Fell To Earth

So funny, this was one of my favorite shots in the movie, and someone made this Ode To Thomas poster. I do love David Bowie. I saw him in concert once. I came home and said to my best friend, "David Bowie is a god." She said, "That's great. Want to be my maid of honor?" (She'd just gotten engaged that night)

What a strange, beautiful movie. I don't really get it. But it's so eerily beautiful. I watched it tonight. After having gone to the cemetery twice today, it seemed oddly appropriate.

The cemetery goes up steeply on a hillside at the end of our street. I walked and sprinted all the way to the top, feeling kind of great for a change. I may have even gotten a bit of sunburn. Then, later in the day, Terri and I drove up there so she could take a little walk and enjoy the sun. We came upon a sweet little birdbath, little birdies splashing around. Also far too many small children's graves, both old and heartbreakingly new. I do love our new neighborhood. Everything that I like is here: little shops, cute houses with pretty gardens, hills, trees, lots of little creatures. If we have to live in the city, this isn't too bad at all.

Toasty Goodness (edited to add recipe)

That is what this is. Cinnamon swirl toasty goodness. I made this last weekend. Pretty, no? I think it must be repeated this weekend. It IS Super Bowl weekend, after all. I think we'll have nachos (with the last of the refried beans), spinach dip, and cinnamon bread (to start the day).

Notice that I could not tell you who is playing the Super Bowl, and I probably won't even watch any of it, but I WILL be making yummy treats. Any excuse will do!

Plans for the weekend include:

1. Owl #3
2. Menu-planning and a little shopping
3. Exercise
4. The Grand Plan Of Awesomeness

What's the The Grand Plan Of Awesomeness? I don't even know. I think it's going to be a road map for the next few months, involving art, exercise, and all the creative ways I can think of to use my various random skills. And maybe earn some extra money. But mostly, let's get this ball rolling and have some fun and get productive! (but mostly, let's just have some fun and make some cool stuff.) I'm terrible at making Grand Plans but I feel somewhat inspired. I'm also totally okay with the whole plan changing at a moment's notice, so I think I'm set in either case.

Up next in the book-reading plans: Swish. I'm still plodding away at the spirituality book, and I'm eagerly looking forward to my allotted pages of Anna, but I need something else fun and light to keep me swinging along.

(edited to add: here you go, Kate!)
Rich Cinnamon Swirl Bread
3/4 cup milk
1 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 eggs
3 tablespoons butter (melted)
3 cups bread flour
1/4 cup + 2 Tbls white sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt

For swirl:
1/3 cup brown sugar
3-4 teas cinnamon (or to taste)
1 tbls melted butter

Turn on oven to 200 degrees.

Scald the milk to 100 degrees, cool slightly. Put in large heatproof bowl or bowl of standing mixer. Add yeast and a pinch of sugar. Stir, let sit a few minutes. Add eggs and butter, stir well to combine. Add 1 cup flour, sugar and salt. Mix well. Add remaining flour, one cup at a time, until dough is smooth and not sticky. Knead (either in bowl or by hand) until dough is smooth and not at all sticky, adding flour as needed, about 10 minutes.

Put dough back in bowl, cover with clean cloth. TURN OVEN OFF. Put bowl into oven to let rise double, about an hour to hour and a half.

Punch down, and roll out flat into a rectangle. Mix brown sugar, cinnamon, and melted butter. Pat brown sugar out evenly over rectangle. Roll tightly, tuck ends under if necessary. Put into greased bread pan, cover with cloth, let rise again 1 hour. In the meantime, preheat oven to 375.

When bread is risen (brush with beaten egg first if you like), bake in oven 35-40 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown.

Note: there is apparently some kind of magic remedy for making sure you don't get a big hole in the middle of the swirl as it bakes. I have not discovered this trick. However, it's still amazing bread.

Book: Weetzie Bat

Well, that was a magical little trip that took about an hour!

This is one of those books that feels like a dream -- you aren't quite sure what's happening, or if it's really any good, but it's so dreamy and compelling that you just read right through to the end, and then you sit and smile and wonder if you should read it right straight through again immediately.

This was adorable and published in 1989 and I wish I'd read it when I was in high school (which I was in 1989) but I loved it very much reading it here in 2009.

Weetzie Bat (I expected her to be a little punk fairy or something) is a skinny quirky girl who loves dressing up in fluffy dresses or feathered headdresses or fringed Levi's. She lives in L.A. and meets Dirk, a sweet young man who is the coolest ever. They love each other very much, but he's gay. But that's just fine with Weetzie.

They go out duck-hunting together (looking for men -- don't you love that?). They have a series of dead-end ducks. Finally, Weetzie is given a genie lamp, and gets three wishes. As wishes are wont to do, they don't turn out like she expects.

Dirk gets a Duck -- a darling sunny surfer Duck.
Weetzie gets her Secret Agent Lover Man.
And they have a sweet little rose-filled cottage to live in.

They make movies. They have babies. They have friends who get sick with AIDS.

It's bubbly and fluffy and odd and funny and quirky and sweet like cotton candy, and I loved it.

Bean Burgers Part Deux

Berries outside our front door... they'd be awfully pretty with a snowdrift, but alas, no snow here in Oakland...

So I've decided to take my friend Nicki's advice and plan the menu in advance for week, on Sundays. We tried it out this week and so far it's working out very well. Here is the menu for the week:

Sunday: lentil stew (this was sooooo yummy) and corn muffins
Monday: leftover lentil stew and muffins
Tuesday: bean burritos with homemade refried pinto beans
Wednesday: veggie burgers made with leftover beans, and baked oven fries
Thursday: leftover burgers, maybe coleslaw or salad
Friday: a big meal-sized salad

We were actually going to have something else on Thursday, but the burgers turned out so amazing tonight (and we had a few left over) that we wanted to have them again tomorrow. What a relief to know in advance what we're having for dinner! I have a terrible time coming up with weekly menus (I'm more of a decide-at-4-pm-what-I-feel-like-making sort of person), but here's what I did to make this a little easier: first, I made a big list of all our favorite meals that I make on a regular basis. I came up with a list of about 22 or 23 different dishes. That's about three weeks of meals. Plenty to mix and match. Then, I chose something to start the week with (this week, lentil stew) and went from there. It was good to be able to see how I could use something from the previous night (like refried beans) and make something different the next night.

Then I wrote the menu on our board on the fridge, and Terri got a kick out of inspecting it, and then OK'ing it with her initials. Hey, it's the little things.

I meant to do some painting tonight but I got too excited about the bean burgers. I'm such a geek about stuff like this. So here's what I did differently this time (these were so much better than the last time I made these burgers).

* I used homemade pinto beans (in refried form, but I'm sure they'd be good plain too) instead of canned garbanzo beans
* I added half a chopped red pepper to the mix
* I also tossed in a couple spoonfuls of falafel mix to add body and flavor

The texture of these were terrific, and the red pepper added such great flavor.

The baked fries were great too. Here's how (for two people):

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Peel (or not) two russet potatoes, slice into steak-frite sized pieces.
Drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle liberally with chili powder, cumin, seasoning salt, etc.
Line a baking pan with foil, arrange potatoes on this.
Bake for 20 minutes, then flip the fries, and bake for 10-15 more minutes.

Watch them carefully because they can burn easily.

Enjoy! Now, I'm off to bed to try and get some reading done.

Behind the Scenes; And, Booktalk

Where's Katie? She's behind the scenes, working on stuff with me.

So many people have been so helpful to me in the past few days as I've tried very hard to halt the freakout about What To Do With My Life. Thankfully, the trainwreck has been averted. Sanity has been (somewhat) restored.

In the meantime, there has been an overflowing of fun ideas. I'm taking the advice of several smart people who love me and am going to save all the energy that I had been using up on worrying and chasing random ideas, and instead, work on any number of really exciting creative projects. Because really, what have I got to lose? So stay tuned, there will be some new things popping up as soon as I get some progress made (possibly including a solution for that owl-envy!).

But while those ideas are brewing, a little bit of booktalk. I got some great books from the library:

* Swish: My Quest To Become The Gayest Person Ever: How can you resist a title like that?
* Breakfast At Tiffany's: I have never read this. It's about time!
* Weetzie Bat: Highly recommended by Dark Carnival and other bloggers.
* Savage Beauty: A biography of Edna St. Vincent Milay. I'm not familiar with her other than what I've read in school, but I know a bit about her life and it sounds fascinating.

I also got Mark Bittman's How To Cook Everything Vegetarian, and I just got the notification today that my turn has come up to read The Graveyard Book! Although I have to say I'm tempted to save it for R.I.P. this year... but can I wait nine more months? I don't think so.

Speaking of Neil Gaiman, I'm very excited that Coraline is coming out in theaters soon. I loved the book and can't wait to see the movie in all its creepiness.

I've been poking along reading a few pages at a time of The Soul's Religion by Thomas Moore, but it's sort of slow going since I have to stop and ponder stuff as I'm reading along. I really want to tear headlong into Anna Karenina, but I'm on a paced schedule so I have to stop myself. But I have some good selections to keep me busy for awhile, so I think I'd better start in on those right away.

And by the way, I made homemade refried beans tonight. Those *really* don't photograph well, but they are worth making from scratch if you can remember to start them soaking in the morning.

6 Things That Make Me Happy

And, since I'm posting all sorts of randomness today, let's do the Six Things That Make Me Happy meme. Let's do the six things that are making me happy *today*.

1. Fresh cinnamon bread. I just made some today, and there is just about nothing better than fresh cinnamon bread right out of the oven.

2. Exercising. I went for a nice little jog/sprint/workout today in the cemetery near my house (it's HUGE, it's like a park) and I felt so good! I ran to the very top of the hill and was rewarded with the amazing view of the entire San Francisco Bay, including the Golden Gate Bridge. Must bring my camera up there sometime.

3. Fresh clean sheets. I did laundry today and I can't wait to get into bed with fresh, clean, fluffy flannel sheets. It's the best feeling.

4. My new red owl painting. He is on the wall, making me very happy everytime I see him. I can't wait to make the next one. Although now I remember why I get so afraid of painting -- I'm totally afraid I won't be able to do it again. That's such a terrible feeling, to follow up success with failure. But we're talking happy things here. Right. Happy.

5. Rainy days, and the day after the rainy day. I love rainy days best of all, but it's closely followed by the day AFTER the rainy day, when everything is fresh and clean and sparkling and the air is so sweet. I just love it. That's what today was, the day AFTER the rainy day.

6. Neighborhood cats. Once again we live in a neighborhood full of really cute cats. There's the little orange and white one across the street, the little Burmese pretties next door, the little old man kitty who walks away from his house and then yowls for his owner to come get him (which she does, which is adorable), and my favorite, Mr. Tom Cat, whom I have seen all over the neighborhood but most recently on our back porch. He is very friendly and loves being petted, and would have loved to come in and see what our girls were having for lunch today. What a cutie.

Must-Read Sci-Fi and Fantasy List

Carl has this list/meme up tonight, and since I'd like to read more of this genre this year (along with more classics; Anna K. has me all inspired), thought I would post it here and see how well I'm doing. I'm fearful that I'm woefully under-read. The ones I've read are in bold. (it's a long list, sorry)

1. Douglas Adams: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (1979)
2. Brian W Aldiss: Non-Stop (1958)
3. Isaac Asimov: Foundation (1951)
4. Margaret Atwood: The Blind Assassin (2000)
5. Paul Auster: In the Country of Last Things (1987)
6. Iain Banks: The Wasp Factory (1984)
7. Iain M Banks: Consider Phlebas (1987)
8. Clive Barker: Weaveworld (1987)
9. Nicola Barker: Darkmans (2007)
10. Stephen Baxter: The Time Ships (1995)
11. Greg Bear: Darwin’s Radio (1999)
12. Alfred Bester: The Stars My Destination (1956)
13. Poppy Z Brite: Lost Souls (1992)
14. Algis Budrys: Rogue Moon (1960)
15. Mikhail Bulgakov: The Master and Margarita (1966)
16. Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Coming Race (1871)
17. Anthony Burgess: A Clockwork Orange (1960)
18. Anthony Burgess: The End of the World News (1982)
19. Edgar Rice Burroughs: A Princess of Mars (1912)
20. William Burroughs: Naked Lunch (1959)
21. Octavia Butler: Kindred (1979)
22. Samuel Butler: Erewhon (1872)
23. Italo Calvino: The Baron in the Trees (1957)
24. Ramsey Campbell: The Influence (1988)
25. Lewis Carroll: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865)
26. Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (1871)
27. Angela Carter: Nights at the Circus (1984)
28. Michael Chabon: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (2000)
29. Arthur C Clarke: Childhood’s End (1953)
30. GK Chesterton: The Man Who Was Thursday (1908)
31. Susanna Clarke: Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (2004)
32. Michael G Coney: Hello Summer, Goodbye (1975)
33. Douglas Coupland: Girlfriend in a Coma (1998)
34. Mark Danielewski: House of Leaves (2000)
35. Marie Darrieussecq: Pig Tales (1996)
36. Samuel R Delaney: The Einstein Intersection (1967)
37. Philip K Dick: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968)
38. Philip K Dick: The Man in the High Castle (1962)
39. Umberto Eco: Foucault’s Pendulum (1988)
40. Michel Faber: Under the Skin (2000)
41. John Fowles: The Magus (1966)
42. Neil Gaiman: American Gods (2001)
43. Alan Garner: Red Shift (1973)
44. William Gibson: Neuromancer (1984)
45. Charlotte Perkins Gilman: Herland (1915)
46. William Golding: Lord of the Flies (1954)
47. Joe Haldeman: The Forever War (1974)
48. M John Harrison: Light (2002)
49. Robert A Heinlein: Stranger in a Strange Land (1961)
50. Frank Herbert: Dune (1965)
51. Hermann Hesse: The Glass Bead Game (1943)
52. Russell Hoban: Riddley Walker (1980)
53. James Hogg: The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner (1824)
54. Michel Houellebecq: Atomised (1998)
55. Aldous Huxley: Brave New World (1932)
56. Kazuo Ishiguro: The Unconsoled (1995)
57. Shirley Jackson: The Haunting of Hill House (1959)
58. Henry James: The Turn of the Screw (1898)
59. PD James: The Children of Men (1992)
60. Richard Jefferies: After London; Or, Wild England (1885)
61. Gwyneth Jones: Bold as Love (2001)
62. Franz Kafka: The Trial (1925)
63. Daniel Keyes: Flowers for Algernon (1966)
64. Stephen King: The Shining (1977)
65. Marghanita Laski: The Victorian Chaise-longue (1953)
66. Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu: Uncle Silas (1864)
67. Stanislaw Lem: Solaris (1961)
68. Doris Lessing: Memoirs of a Survivor (1974)
69. David Lindsay: A Voyage to Arcturus (1920)
70. Ken MacLeod: The Night Sessions (2008)
71. Hilary Mantel: Beyond Black (2005)
72. Michael Marshall Smith: Only Forward (1994)
73. Richard Matheson: I Am Legend (1954)
74. Charles Maturin: Melmoth the Wanderer (1820)
75. Patrick McCabe: The Butcher Boy (1992)
76. Cormac McCarthy: The Road (2006)
77. Jed Mercurio: Ascent (2007)
78. China Miéville: The Scar (2002)
79. Andrew Miller: Ingenious Pain (1997)
80. Walter M Miller Jr: A Canticle for Leibowitz (1960)
81. David Mitchell: Cloud Atlas (2004)
82. Michael Moorcock: Mother London (1988)
83. William Morris: News From Nowhere (1890)
84. Toni Morrison: Beloved (1987)
85. Haruki Murakami: The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (1995)
86. Vladimir Nabokov: Ada or Ardor (1969)
87. Audrey Niffenegger: The Time Traveler’s Wife (2003)
88. Larry Niven: Ringworld (1970)
89. Jeff Noon: Vurt (1993)
90. Flann O’Brien: The Third Policeman (1967)
91. Ben Okri: The Famished Road (1991)
92. Chuck Palahniuk: Fight Club (1996)
93. Thomas Love Peacock: Nightmare Abbey (1818)
94. Mervyn Peake: Titus Groan (1946)
95. John Cowper Powys: A Glastonbury Romance (1932)
96. Christopher Priest: The Prestige (1995)
97. François Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel (1532-34)
98. Ann Radcliffe: The Mysteries of Udolpho (1794)
99. Alastair Reynolds: Revelation Space (2000)
100. Kim Stanley Robinson: The Years of Rice and Salt (2002)
101. JK Rowling: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (1997)
102. Salman Rushdie: The Satanic Verses (1988)
103. Antoine de Sainte-Exupéry: The Little Prince (1943)
104. José Saramago: Blindness (1995)
105. Will Self: How the Dead Live (2000)
106. Mary Shelley: Frankenstein (1818)
107. Dan Simmons: Hyperion (1989)
108. Olaf Stapledon: Star Maker (1937)
109. Neal Stephenson: Snow Crash (1992)
110. Robert Louis Stevenson: The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886)
111. Bram Stoker: Dracula (1897)
112. Rupert Thomson: The Insult (1996)
113. Mark Twain: A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur’s Court (1889)
114. Kurt Vonnegut: Sirens of Titan (1959)
115. Robert Walser: Institute Benjamenta (1909)
116. Sylvia Townsend Warner: Lolly Willowes (1926)
117. Sarah Waters: Affinity (1999)
118. HG Wells: The Time Machine (1895)
119. HG Wells: The War of the Worlds (1898)
120. TH White: The Sword in the Stone (1938)
121. Gene Wolfe: The Book of the New Sun (1980-83)
122. John Wyndham: Day of the Triffids (1951)
123. John Wyndham: The Midwich Cuckoos (1957)
124. Yevgeny Zamyatin: We (1924)

Yeah, um. Lots of room for improvement. Well. That just means there's more for the TBR list (in my head).

The Curtains Open: Let's Begin Anna

Yay! I started reading Anna. First impressions: I *love* it. I am going to have to seriously pace myself.

I found myself slightly intimidated after Kate's fantastic scholarly post, but then I talked myself down and remembered that I want to talk about Anna K. like I talk about all my other books. Very casual. That's why we have this blog: lots of viewpoints, right? Right.

So. I'm up to Chapter XII. We have met Oblonsky, Levin, and a host of other minor characters. Anna is on her way, and there is great upset in the Oblonsky house. What I am really appreciating is the way that Tolstoy illustrates regular family life in late 1800s Russia: what people ate, the way they are with each other, what it means to be 'familiar' with an acquaintance. (For the rest, click here)

Red Owl (Owl #2)

Hey, guess what? Sitting your butt down and painting all day is sorta fun. Who knew? I think part of me is afraid of liking it too much, because then that is all I'll want to do. I suppose there are worse fates.

Anyway. When we last left Owl Painting #2, we had a fancy branch without an inhabitant. Today I set out to remedy that.

With a demon. A badly-drawn one, at that.

Ooh, now he's an angry demon! See this? This is his angry face!

Now he's so mad his eyes have turned yellow. At this point, I was sort of enjoying my angry demon owl and considered doing a whole series of really angry birds.

'cause look how cool they are when they are all empty-eyed and mad.

But then he got pupils and wasn't angry any more. Or at least, he's calmed down considerably.

Then he got all cute and stuff.

It's really, really difficult to take a picture of a painting without getting glare all over the place. Argh.

Anyway. And that's how Red Owl came into being. He's based on a Great Horned Owl but is his own little species of Cutie Pie Owlness.

He's going to live next to Blue Owl.

There's a third owl coming, but she isn't sure what color she wants to have yet. Yellow? Pink? Purple? Perhaps purple. She'll let me know.

I really like this tree-bark treatment. I guess that's what happens, right? You find something you like and you keep developing it? For someone who has been painting and drawing her whole life, I am totally clueless sometimes.

**
I also went to the library to return books but got a whole bunch more in addition. Then I walked to the grocery store. That was dumb. It was a very long, heavy walk home. Oh well.

Gray, rainy day, with lots of painting, a little walk, and U2, The Cure, Metallica and several other intense-y old favorites keeping me inspired. Now, let's go see what Terri was up to all day while I was completely in my own world.

Talking About Ideas

Last night, as Terri was so wisely counseling me to not grasp at the nearest straw to solve the eternal question of What I'm Supposed To Do With My Life, she said something like, "Figure out what is most important in your life, and go from there."

So that's an interesting question. What's most important to me? Clearly, health, family, peace, creativity -- these are all most important. But in terms of what I like to do... that's a different question. I'm quite good at lots of things, but not really stellar at any of them (other than reading). But what do I *like* to do best? I thought about it a lot before going to sleep last night. Here is what I came up with:

Art/creativity.
Books/words/reading.
Food/making things.
Helping/solving/fixing.

These are the things I like best. Then I thought about making a list of supporting Things I'm Good At. Here's a partial list of things I am actually genuinely good at: cooking, reading, drawing, fixing things, finding creative solutions to problems, parallel parking, taking care of animals, taking care of people, listening, being compassionate, working hard physically, reading/following directions/instructions, planning trips, bargain-shopping, learning, retaining what I read, picking up on nonverbal cues, being a student.

Looking at this list, I don't see any solutions immediately, but I do get the feeling that perhaps the answer is something completely unexpected, something I have not yet considered AT ALL. Like maybe I'm supposed to be a hot-stone-oven fixer for artisan bread bakers or something like that.

Terri also suggested maybe I take a career counseling class. She did this a long time ago when she was considering doing something other than psychology. Basically, at the end of the class, it told her: be a psychologist. (she is one of those people who has a very clear calling!) But I like this idea. I like taking classes and tests and quizzes and self-searching.

One of the problems, of course, is that I have to make some sort of living at this as-yet unknown Life Purpose. If I choose to make it my career, that is. They always say not to think about the money when figuring out these things, but really, how can you not? I am attempting to put that question aside, however, just so I can get leave the field open.

She also practically insisted that I start painting or drawing or SOMETHING more often. I have this irrational fear of spending large amounts of time doing art. It terrifies me. I don't know why. But I will give it a shot. Maybe just for a week. And then another week. But just one at first. Apparently I am terrified of what might happen. Why? Who knows. Perhaps the gremlin in my head will kill me or something. I'm willing to risk it. For one week (to start).

I fell asleep last night entertaining myself by creating in my mind a little business for myself. It would be a little cafe with a small, delicious menu, that hosted rotating art shows and participated in First Friday art walks, and had rows and rows of used books in the cafe. The thing about the books would be: the books would just 'live' at the cafe, but you could make your own bookmark and come back over and over and pick up reading where you left off last time. I had visions of different themed bookshelves, and paperbacks with multiple bookmarks from multiple patrons. The cafe could be called The TBR Cafe. It could host bookclubs and author signings.

I love it! My palm clearly says that I am supposed to be an artist AND a businesswoman. The palm doesn't lie, you know.

But first, two goals. 1. find a career class. 2. Do some art 5 days a week for one week (to start).

(I started reading the spiritual book. Clearly I am needing some guidance right now).

This Is What It Looks Like To Not Struggle

This is not what I'm doing.

It's a long, boring story, but I had another bout this evening with the What To Do With My Life monster. He's really, really big; maybe some of you have a relative of his at your house? Maybe he is not so unfamiliar? Anyway. With the help of my darling Terri, he is subdued and that crack in the door that reads: Try NOT Trying So Hard is open a little further. Right. Quit grasping. Start painting. Why is that so hard for me? (oh right. it's because what I really want to be and do has been deemed completely unrealistic, impractical, and silly. Thank you, Mr. Monster)

Anyway. I don't know if it's Round Two of mold detox, but I have fallen into another funk. This one is not so bad, and it's starting to ease. But what is making this very difficult is that I can't figure out what to read! I started to read Hostage To The Devil last night but that was actually *too* scary (and weird) so I had to physically take it out of the bedroom. It was very graphic and what the people said while possessed was just very disturbing. Yuck. It made me feel bad in a totally different way that Was, and much more distressing.

I have a couple others on my list: Anna Karenina, of course (which I think I will read a few pages of tonight); The Trickster, a spooky mystery; something spiritual that I can't remember by Thomas Moore; and a few Philip Dick novels that Terri recommends. I don't know what to pick up next. Such a dilemma.

In the meantime, may I recommend you check out a wonderful post on creativity and getting to where you are now, by my friend Shea.

When Do You Give Up?

Church down the street from our house...

I've been thinking a lot lately about giving up, and not giving up. Not on a grand scale -- just the little 'giving ups' that happen throughout the day. Maybe it's called surrender -- I don't know. But anyway, when I am tired and kind of mopey (like today) I find it's useful to give up. Frequently. Over and over. I gave up trying to be in a good mood. I gave up trying to be cheerful for my staff meeting. I gave up trying to get an answer about a vendor issue. At some point, I just realize: this is not going to change right now. So might as well just give up. For now. For five minutes. For the rest of this meeting. Whatever.

Then there's going back to school -- I'm not giving up there, but I am giving up trying to push so hard, at least for this semester. Instead, I'm going to focus on healing, and doing art. Here's where the not giving up comes in. I have given up over and over on myself with art. I just never push myself very far at all. I'm too afraid. Literally! It's weird. But this time, I feel like maybe I can do it. Maybe it's okay that I don't paint huge pictures. Maybe it's okay if some of them turn out sort of dark and gloomy. Maybe it's okay to just do what I want to do. In a way, that's giving up too -- giving up trying to live up to some expectation I had about myself. Or what I thought others expected of me.

Actually, I started this post because I wanted to talk about another kind of giving up: when do you give up on a book? I'm reading Was, and I have to say, although it's interesting and I am sort of into it, I'm really not liking it for some reason. I think it's sort of bumming me out. It's just not what I feel like reading, even though I sort of am into it. Does that make sense? I guess I *could* read it but it's not giving me that happy-reading feeling.

I know what the answer is, but I hate giving up on books. Maybe I'll just give up on it for now since it's just sort of making me feel bad. I think I should, since even just thinking about starting something else is making me feel better.

Other things I am giving up on tonight:
* ever getting TiVo hooked up correctly with the &*!^% cable box
* getting dinner done (the darn lasagna will not finish cooking!)
* my tummy feeling better tonight
* feeling 'settled' (although I'm sure once the stupid lasagna finishes cooking, that will help)

And now, I'm giving up on this being any sort of interesting post.

Hopeful

I wonder if I wasn't the only person who found President Obama's speech personally moving and inspiring. Faced with so many unknowns and scary times, his message of pressing on, and being brave and courageous and curious and ever-hopeful, ever-ready to turn the tide... I felt a conviction that all this will turn out okay. In my own life and in America.

I was so proud this morning, standing in the office training room watching the swearing-in, surrounded by my incredibly diverse coworkers, all of us wiping away tears and looking at each other with huge smiles and waves of hope surging through our collective hearts.

So freaking proud! And relieved. And Aretha was amazing! The hat!!

And now, can I just say that I loved Michelle's dress, and I can't wait to see what she wears tonight at the ball. I think Michelle is fabulous. Ain't NOBODY going to cheat on THAT woman and live to tell about it! She's got sass and I like that. I can't wait to see what she does in her role.

Happy, happy day.

Oh, Martha

Tonight I thought I would indulge a little weakness of mine and got myself the February edition of Martha Stewart's Living magazine. I used to subscribe to it, quite a few years ago, until I realized that it was completely useless, although beautiful.

I was tempted by the beautiful cupcakes on the cover, and the Valentine crafts (we didn't do holiday cards this year, so I thought we could do Valentines instead). I generally buy this magazine about once a year, when a cover is so pretty that I just can't resist. I always hope that THIS will be the issue when Martha's tricks will make sense for my life.

(let me first say that I am not a Martha fan in general -- I sort of like her ideas, but I think she's completely overblown and pretentious and her recipes never work for me. However, her magazines are laid out beautifully, and the color pages are great for certain crafts, and her tips and tricks always seem like they'll be good, until I try them and realized that they're totally impractical. Tying ribbons around towels in the linen closet? Puh-leeze)

So anyway. I'm here with my tea and cookies (from my sweet Terri, again taking care of me), and I open the magazine in anticipation of cupcake recipes and Valentine crafts. Instead, I am greeted with Martha's travelling tips. These include (I am not making these up): never ever checking your suitcases unless you can first shrink-wrap them (because they are so often damaged by rough conveyor belts). Using layers of acid-free paper in your sweaters before you fold them. Before putting your shoes in custom canvas bags, stuff the toes with acid-free paper. Pre-assemble your outfits and hang them on sturdy hangers, and then wrap those in plastic.

She then goes on to say, "This packing system works well and is easy to incorporate into your next trip." Right. Right. Let me get out my, uh, shrink-wrapping machine. Martha, I am sorry to say, but I am not your type of girl.

It was so pretty today (the trees are confused, see above). V and I went out thrift-shopping. I haven't been in a long time, so it was really fun. I got some great things:

* 4 stained-glass votive candle holders that look amazing on the mantle
* a soft kitty-blanket for the bottom shelf of the hall closet that the cats have claimed
* an olive plate (yes, we eat olives enough to justify a pretty little olive plate)
* a little bird-and-tree knickknack to hold my jewelry in the bathroom
* a Zen chime clock that I've been wanting for years -- 5 bucks!

All this joy for $18.

Now that, Martha, is living.

Book: The Woman In Black

Finally! A scary story that actually gave me (poor, pitiful, jaded old me) chills.

I should have saved this for a stormy night, but it was from the library and I couldn't wait any longer, so I had to have it, sunny weather or not.

Written in a charmingly straightforward and storytelling style, The Woman In Black is a fairly traditional English-gothic style ghost story. The suspense and atmosphere build, as does the feeling of dread and anticipation of... of what, we don't know, but we know it's awful.

Arthur Kipps, young lawyer, is dispatched to a distant village to take care of the last affairs of a certain Mrs. Drablow, local recluse. As soon as he nears the village, the strangeness begins. People are reluctant to talk about Mrs. Drablow, and encourage him not to go to her house at all. He can't get any more details than this. At her funeral (attended by no one except he and the local solicitor), Arther sees a mysterious woman in black, seemingly paying her last respects. When he mentions this woman to the solicitor, he gets a frightened response.

Finally, he must go out to her house to go through her papers. Located in the middle of a desolate marsh filled with treacherous quicksand, reachable only by a thin path (which disappears as the tide comes in, so you can only come and go at certain times of day), the house is dread itself. Soon, Arthur begins to know why no one will accompany him out there.

A series of ever-increasingly terrible things happen (all very spooky and genuinely scary), until finally Arthurs nerves cannot take it. And then... the worst of all happens.

What can I say? It was a perfect story. It was exactly what I wish Turn of the Screw had been (in fact, it's set up much like Turn of the Screw in the beginning). It was fun to read, with perfect pacing and all the elements of a good ghost story: English marshes, a big dreadful house, a spectral woman in black, a dead child, scared locals, thick fogs... and it had an adorable doggie in the story as well, which turned out to be such an effective plot device. Also, my version had some really charming illustrations.

I loved it. I wish I had saved it for this year's R.I.P. challenge, but I just couldn't wait.

For A Change

I am as content as these two cuties:

What a nice day. They don't get much better than this.

First, I slept in nice and late, in our super-comfy healthy bed, with thick soft flannel sheets. Can I just say that this latex mattress rocks? It totally does. It's not terribly plush per se, but I haven't woken up with a backache once since we've gotten it. It is very... supportive -- not to sound like a mattress commercial, but it's true. I did get a terrible neckache, but that's a combination of having some trouble with my chair at work, and needing to go back to the contoured Tempurpedic pillow. I still love the latex pillow for reading, but I just need a really, really flat pillow when sleeping or else my neck totally freaks out. After a few days back on the contoured pillow, I'm almost back to normal, neck-wise.

(I am haunted by the memory I have of waking up one night in the old bed, waaaay before we ever even thought about mold in our apartment, and smelling mold coming from the mattress. I never smelled it again, but I feel kind of sick about it now.)

Anyway. I had amazing coffee (Stumptown, gift from brother) and thick cinnamon toast for breakfast. Then I did a little bit of housework. Then I took a really long shower. Started a bit of laundry, and then we decided to go to Elephant Pharmacy to use up a gift certificate. We got lots of lovely things we'd been putting off getting. The weather was so nice -- about 67, sunny, cheerful. Everyone was out and it felt like spring. After a quick stop at our little adorable local grocery for snacks and dinner, we headed home, where I have been plopped on the comfy chair, reading my book (The Woman In Black), nibbling on snacks, and enjoying a little fire. Terri made dinner a little bit ago, and then brought me tea and cookies for dessert.

Like I said, just about perfect.

I really can't express just how thankful I am that we're feeling better. I'm feeling almost back to my old self -- I think I'll start jogging again towards the end of this week (give myself a few more days of rest). My ultra-grumpy mood has disappeared, and although my patience is still worn thin, I'm definitely almost back to normal mood-wise too. I still tire easily, but that's also improving slowly.

Terri was rendered almost non-functional after the move, but now she is feeling so much better -- a bit better even than before the move. She's able to do some household chores and go outside for little walks, and accompany me on short local errands. It's sooooo nice to have her 'back'. We're still hoping, of course, that either time or Valcyte will help improve her even further, but just to have her feeling decent is incredible. Times were pretty bleak, back a few weeks ago.

Well, it's back to my book for the remainder of the evening. Tomorrow my friend V is coming over to go thrift-shopping... I can't wait!

Book: Hotel Transylvania (a novel of forbidden love)

You know this couldn't end well. (although I dig the cheesy 70s cover)

Apparently based on a real person, this is ostensibly a novel "of forbidden love" between the Comte Saint-Germain and this woman, Madelaine de Montoya (or something...I couldn't keep all these titles straight). The copy I have is signed by the author, and curiously the title page has this phrase scratched out and instead, she's written in "a tale of historical horror". So I don't know. Either way, it was a silly book.

Like I said in my earlier post, this book has got a lot going on. I can tell it's supposed to be some sort of historical romance or something like that, with a sexy vampire angle, and some alchemy/dark arts thrown in for drama. But really, it's just a showy kidnapping novel with a whole bunch of flair thrown around for distraction. Even the fact that the Count is a vampire is a relatively minor point in the book. But more on that later.

So. The plot is this. Young Madelaine, ready to be out and about in Paris and on the market for marriage, goes to stay with her aunt and uncle in high-society 1700s Paris. Lots and lots of talk about clothes, which I actually didn't mind. There is a mysterious character, the Comte Saint-Germain, who charms everyone, appears never to age, and never eats or drinks in public. He is, basically, a charming saint. Who is a vampire. Love those! Anyway. So apparently (this is never made entirely clear) Madelaine's father used to be in with a group of Satanists and promised his firstborn child to said Satanists. Of course he later came to his wits and left the group, and has hidden Madelaine away all these 19 years. But now he let her go back to Paris to find a husband. Hello?!? Everyone knows Satanists don't give up!

So. Madelaine is the toast of the town and Saint-Germain falls in love with her. I guess. This is all covered in about three sentences. More on that later. So they're in love (or something) but the Satanists are closing in. Many elaborate plots to kidnap her happen, and they are outwitted every time. Until, finally, they capture her. And start to do all kinds of bad things to her (but nothing *really* bad because it's just not that sort of novel. It's the sort of novel that alludes to things, if you know what I mean.) Her father and uncle and Saint-Germain come to her rescue and there's a big fire and all the Satanists (and her father and uncle) die, and Saint-Germain has to go away and Madelaine becomes a vampire. Or, at least, she will in the next book.

Or something like that.

I have many, many problems with this book. I will say, however, that if you are looking for a slightly dark summer read and you like historical fiction/romance (although there's not much romance, although it *sounds* like there should be), and you like a little bit (but not too much!) vampire, and you want a new series of books to plow through (there are apparently many sequels) then I will say that the book is fairly decently written and it's fun to read about 1700s Paris with all the clothes and such.

BUT. I thought it was dumb. First, let's talk about this supposed romance between Saint-Germain and Madelaine. It starts off promisingly, all veiled society manners and sidelong glances, but then, within the space of a page or so, suddenly they are in love and each other's soul mates. And, on that same page, we discover that Saint-Germain is a vampire (he says something like "I've been alive much longer than 500 years, my dear") and she is not shocked at all by this, but instead wants him to drink her blood (this feeding is a clear substitute for sex in this book). This all literally happens in about three paragraphs. I had to flip back to make sure I hadn't missed something, because I was like, "What?" And then, for pages and pages afterwards, we get very small reminders that he's a vampire, but it's not the central focus of the story or anything, which I found sort of annoying. I couldn't figure out what this book was ABOUT, until I realized it was a kidnapping book. Basically, the hero rescues the lady from the evil Satanists. It was about the Satanists more than anything, actually. Which is fine, but we are led to believe this is a book about Saint-Germain, or Madelaine, and it's NOT.

Saint-Germain as a vampire is a wimpy excuse of a vampire. He's been alive for centuries (the sequel books put him in various historical settings, which, if I didn't already think the book was crap, might be sort of interesting), and he doesn't eat or drink in public. He only needs a very little bit of blood, and mostly it appears that this is a substitute for sex, it's not really food. He's a master of many things: sword-fighting, alchemy, music, etc. He has to have his 'native soil' in his boots for him to stand sunlight or to cross running water. But... that's about it. He's certainly not evil in any sense. He's not violent. He's basically a highly cultured eunuch who never dies. Whoop-de-do. Whatever. I know I'm totally influenced by Anne Rice, but I like my vampires to be a little bit more... tortured. Violent. Conflicted. And definitely way sexier. Saint-Germain was a yawner.

And Madelaine was a cardboard cutout of a 1700s French noblewoman. She was supposed to be all feisty and intelligent and stuff, and we get a little bit of that, but mostly I spent the whole book waiting for some sort of character development anywhere. Madelaine gets a little fleshing out, Saint-Germain gets a little bit, the main Satanist guy gets a little bit, but everyone else are just paper dolls moving around in the story. Madelaine's father completely mystified me. He's a very confusing character. Is he a reformed Satanist? This is hinted at, but we never really know. He mostly seems like he's made of mud. He's not very good at rescuing her (he gets himself killed), he doesn't like to party, he doesn't like anything at all -- and he let his daughter go back to Paris when he knew he had promised her to the Satanists! Why?? Dummy! Gah!

Anyway. Suffice to say, I will not be reading any more of the Saint-Germain novels (although to be fair, I did read some other reviews and they say that the other books are better). When I was doing a little pre-reading research on this novel, I kept reading how it was a "classic" and how "so many modern vampire characters owe so much to this novel" etc. So I was expecting something a little better. I kept waiting for it to get good, and it didn't.

I'm Reading Anna K. In 09!

All right, all right. I'm going to do it!

I'm all signed up here at Anna Karenina 2009. If you're interested in joining us, sign up! I can't wait to discuss this Russian unhappy family.

Only a Dedicated Reader?

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Book Snob
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Non-Reader
Fad Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

I'm not always trying to find time to get back to my book; I make plenty of time for that! I guess that's the happy medium between Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm and Book Snob. I'm I'm clearly not a book snob (see post below re: trashy vampire historical fiction).

Made For TV?

I usually try not to write about books while I'm reading them (I don't know why, maybe I'm thinking I don't want to ruin the surprise before I review them?), but I can't resist any longer with this current book.

I'm reading Hotel Transylvania, and I have to say, what a silly book. This is from someone who has read most of the Anne Rice novels and has an admitted weakness for silly vampire novels. However, this one is pretty darn silly. Let's see here. I'm only half way through, and so far we have:

* First, there's the millenium+ years-old vampire (he's good, of course) (as far as we can tell, anyway) (plus he's charming and dashing and rich and all those things)
* Then, there's the young ingenue, Madelaine, a country girl staying with her aunt in Paris. She is of course infatuated with Saint-Germain, the vampire.
* Did I mention it's set in the 1700s?
* Lots of paragraphs about clothes. Many wide skirts and lace cuffs and peach overcoats.
* There is also an evil circle of socialite satanists (no, these terms are NOT synonymous). They are fashionable, catty, conniving, and also mostly homosexual (although they are married to various innocent women)
* And there's virgin sacrifices
* And alchemy
* And some other plot about jewels and hotels
* And somehow even though it's set in the 1700s, it feels like it's set in the 70s.

Now, please tell me someone made a miniseries of this book in the late 70s or early 80s. Please?

Sigh. Well, the writing isn't terrible, and it's sort of pulling me in, in spite of myself, but I've got a huge stack of other fantastic books distracting me. However, I think I'll finish it because if I end up liking it, there are apparently a whole string of Saint-Germain books to keep me busy when I need trashy vampire books. Which one does at certain times, you know?

The Bookshelf Meme

One of our actual bookshelves...

I got this from Nymeth's blog but I think it originated with Eva...

Tell me about...

The book that's been on your shelves the longest:
Um. I have a lot of those. But probably it's my beloved copy of Miss Suzy. I have had this book on my shelves almost my whole life (it's on my shelf now!), and I adore this little story of the brave Miss Suzy, the gentle gray squirrel, who, with the help of some brave toy soldiers, battles the Mean Red Squirrels who take over her house. There are descriptions of Miss Suzy taking refuge from a big wet storm in an old house with an attic, and it was always raining when I was a kid in Oregon and we had an old house with an attic, so I was particularly attached to that part of the story. I also loved the descriptions of how Miss Suzy kept house, sweeping with a twig broom and taking care of her acorn cups.

A book that reminds you of something specific in your life

Hmm. Well, The Fountainhead always reminds me of reading through the "night" during the summer in Finland, when it never got dark. I could NOT get to sleep and so I stayed up until, literally, 5:30 in the morning sometimes, reading this book. I'm sure I read others during that time but I particularly remember reading this one and looking at the clock and realizing it was 5:30 am and I had read through the whole 'night' without once needing to turn on my light. Crazy. And then when I finally could sleep, I slept until 2 or 3 in the afternoon. My host father got so frustrated with me, but I was *so* messed up by those summer nights.

A book you acquired in some interesting way

Nothing too interesting. I had an annotated copy of Alice In Wonderland that I purchased at a huge department store in Helsinki on the day I flew home from Finland. I needed a book to read on the 17 hour journey and had NOTHING, and this was the best I could with the poor selection of English books they had at the store. I read it twice, and then thankfully bought some magazines once we finally got to JFK in New York. Usually I just get books the same old ways: friends, used bookstores, garage sales, the "free" shelf at work...

The most recent addition to your shelves

I just GOT RID of a ton of books, but I did just purchase In The Woods and The Land of Laughs. A perfect illustration of why I really hate to buy books at the full price (I know, I know, everyone should, to support the publishing industry, etc. But personally, I can't stand it) because I read each of those in two or three days, and I don't particularly want to re-read either of them and so now what do I do with them? Sigh. Time to start a big box for the used bookstore again.

A book that's been with you to the most places

Probably the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Those three books have been with me to: Finland, Russia, Alaska (where I lost one of them), Oregon, California, New York and Canada.

A bonus book you want to talk about but doesn't fit into the other questions

This one is hard to talk about because it doesn't have a cover, I don't know the name of it, but I just adore this book! It's an antique copy of some very old (20s?) children's fairy tales, very charming and quirky, with amazing illustrations. The first story in the book is called The Little Boy Who Made Toffee. It was my dad's book, and probably my grandfather's book as well. It's got thick cardboard pages, is held together (barely) by masking tape, and is the sole reason I want to take a bookbinding class sooner or later so that I can fix this beloved book. I also very much wish I knew the title of it so I could see who authored it. I'll scan some of the illustrations sometime and see if I can track it down.

Veggie Burgers, and, Some Other Stuff

Silly tree, it's not spring yet. But, it was a gorgeous day here in the Bay Area today.

Here is the veggie/bean burger recipe. God, I suck at food photography. Well, what are you going to do with veggie burger mix. It's not very beautiful.

My Version Of Mark Bittman's Veggie/Bean Burgers

* 2 cups well-cooked white, black, or red beans or chickpeas or lentils, or one 14-ounce can, drained
* 1 medium onion, quartered

* 1/2 package defrosted, drained frozen spinach

* 1 TBLS tomato paste

* 1 TBLS soy sauce

* 2 cloves garlic
* 1/2 cup regular rolled oats
* 1 tablespoon chili powder or spice mix of your choice (I used chili powder and curry powder)
* Salt and freshly ground black pepper
* 1 egg

1. Combine everything in a food processor and pulse until chunky but not puréed. Let the mixture rest for a few minutes.

2. With wet hands, shape into whatever size patties you want. Film the bottom of a large nonstick or well-seasoned cast-iron skillet with oil and turn the heat to medium. A minute later, add the patties. Cook until nicely browned on one side, about 5 minutes; turn carefully and cook on the other side until firm and browned.

3. Serve on buns with the usual burger fixings. Or cool and refrigerate or freeze for later use.

These were really good. We put lots of BBQ sauce on them and had garlic fries with them. Garlic fries make everything better.

**

In other news, I had a very good art day yesterday. On the new table. I looooove it.

Here is my new little studio/dining room. It's still a little messy from moving in, haven't found places for everything yet. Please note the 'baroque' tablecloth.

The beginnings of the Red Owl painting. It's a little spooky right now. I hope it stays that way. I haen't put in Mr. Owl yet. He'll come later.

A closeup of the trees. I like this texture thing. I'd like to do a series with this sort of texturizing and color play.

I'll keep you updated on the progress. I always like it when people post progress on creative items because all you ever see is the finished product, and I'm always like, wow. It just came out like that, all perfect. I like to see the steps people take, the mistakes, and how they fix them (or work with them). I hope to start doing more documenting of this on here.

A Really Good Weekend

(I will have pictures tomorrow)

So here was the (good) list I had suggested for myself this weekend:

* Browse new book and food blogs (half-heartedly done)
* Finish reading The Grotesque (done!)
* Make some origami (going to do next!)
* Buy frame for new owl painting, start painting (in progress!)
* Organize art stuff (partially done!)
* Make rice pudding (done -- twice!)
* Make new dinner recipe (got Chinese instead)
* Browse for bowls (done!)
* Go for walk; take camera (done!)

I did pretty good! In addition, I also managed to sweep and vacuum, do six (!!) loads of laundry, visit with a friend, do a couple small errands and buy a dining room table... I did all the chore-like activities yesterday so I could just do what I wanted today. That plan worked out great.

Can I just say how happy I am to have a dining room table? I am thrilled. I have wanted a real dining room table for the 10 years I've lived in California. I've had tiny kitchen tables, but not a real table. I found exactly what I wanted at a very good price (on clearance) and bought the floor model. As soon as it was in the dining room, I felt this little piece of a puzzle dropping into place in my heart. As if some long-held desire was finally fulfilled. Actually, that's exactly what it was. I don't know why the dining room table means so much to me, but it does. I'm absurdly pleased about it.

Today was lovely. I got up, made coffee, and shivered in the dining room for a little while eating breakfast and reading the news. Then I decided that I needed a vinyl tablecloth to cover the new table while doing art projects. I went to the Long's nearby (the biggest Long's EVER) and was dismayed to discover that apparently they only make intensely ugly vinyl tablecloths. I chose the least horrible of the bunch -- gold stripes on cream background, deciding it was 'baroque' -- and came home to paint. I was debating about background color -- I wanted red, but thought maybe it would be too much. Terri said to try it. So I did. I like it. It's kind of macabre.

The rest of the day followed suit -- nice, easy, very-low stress. I'm feeling quite relaxed. I'd forgotten what this felt like!

So, photos tomorrow. I think this plan of doing some chores on Saturday (mixed with some fun) and then just playing on Sunday is a very good plan.

Book: The Grotesque

(I just liked this picture)

What is it lately with the odd books? Maybe it's the source of recommendation: I got this one off Dark Carnival's recommended list as well.

A sort of gothic English-manor mystery, this was short, entertaining book that had no central plot that I could discern. Or rather, it did not move in a linear line, plot-driven. Rather, it moved in circles, making it very difficult to keep track of the order of events. This is due to the fact that our narrator, Sir Hugo Coal, lord of Crook Manor, had a 'cerebral accident' and is, according to the doctors, a vegetable. So you can see how the storyline might be a bit unusual.

Sir Hugo tells us that he is *not* a vegetable -- he is simply paralyzed and unable to interact with the world. However, his mental faculties are perfectly intact, thank you very much. Thus, he is able to observe the deterioration of his family as the evil (so it would seem) butler, Fledge, usurps Hugo's place in the house bit by bit.

Or is he? Hugo is an unreliable narrator, and throughout the novel it is unclear which exactly are his suspicions as opposed to facts; which are his interpretations of events as opposed to events we can count on.

The story Hugo presents is this: his wife hires Mr. and Mrs. Fledge to be household servants. Mrs. Fledge soon reveals herself to be a mousy alcoholic. Fledge is a butler with intent to be a master. He slowly begins to set in motion a series of events which puts the household in ruins. Hugo's daughter, Cleo, is completely undone after her fiancee, Sidney, is found murdered in the bog. Who murdered him? And why? Is Fledge a homosexual? Is Hugo simply a creep? Is any of this happening at all?

Extremely gothic with bits of frank sexuality and mysterious meandering paths of thought, this was a fun novel to read and perfect for taking to the bathtub to enjoy (which I did a number of times). Although, it never really coagulated into anything particularly coherent, which, upon reflection, is okay. It was very enjoyable if you like sort of dark, rainy, gothic murder mysteries with a twist (which apparently I do).

A funny thing: it took me until at least halfway through the book to figure out when it was set. I got inklings that it was not Victorian, although what with all the talk of servants and English manors and tweeds, it was hard to tell. Finally the clues came and I was able to place the time in the late 1940s. I'm not sure if this was intentional or not, but I thought it was kind of funny that stuffy English gothic novels are somewhat timeless. As long as there's rain, some tweeds, and a butler (who might have done it), it doesn't matter if it's 1840 or 1940.

What's next? I think Hotel Translyvania.

Katie Sez...

All I have left are cat pictures. It is seriously time to head out with the camera this weekend.

Katie the Cat is a strict keeper of the bedtime. At around 10, one or the other of us will say, "Katie sez..." and that means that Katie has started chirping back in the bedroom, telling us it's time to come to bed. It's completely adorable.

I was thinking about these long weeks of grumpiness and exhaustion that I've just (thankfully) come out of. I used to be much grumpier. Or sassier (take your pick). Time mellowed me. Maybe a bit too much. Although I'm enjoying feeling more balanced and less exhausted the last few days, I don't really feel like going back to being Miss Save The World. What a bore that is! How exhausting! Not to mention, not at all conducive to being selfish (see: plan for keeping sane).

While being completely miserable is not exactly fun, it would be kind of awesome to be both happy and relaxed and ALSO kind of selfish with my time. Say it with me: It doesn't matter if the pictures are not up on the wall. It doesn't matter if the bathroom is still a huge mess. I would very much like to paint, fold paper, and putter around with art supplies. And cook deliciousness in the kitchen. And take a walk.

People, send me good wishes. This weekend is going to be an experiment in sticking to the plan. The selfish plan. Not the self-improvement plan (very important difference). I am so freaking sick of self-improvement. It really makes me want to gag. I'm done with that.

Oh, Right

So I started to make my list of weekend chores. It went something like this:

1. Sweep, vacuum
2. Organize/declutter one room (still putting stuff away from the move)
3. Laundry
4. Put up pictures
5. Buy garbage bags
6. Touch-up paint walls

What other dreary chores can I come up with? I'm sure there are plenty. I am a slave driver (of my self), apparently.

Then I remembered, oh yeah! I'm supposed to be having more fun and relaxing more! So then I came up with this new list:

* Browse new book and food blogs (while sitting on butt in front of fireplace)
* Finish reading The Grotesque
* Make some origami
* Buy frame for new owl painting, start painting
* Organize art stuff
* Make rice pudding
* Make new dinner recipe
* Browse for bowls (we have no bowls; how did this happen?)
* Go for walk; take camera

That looks like so much more fun. I bet I can even sneak in some sweeping and laundry.

Easing Back Into Usual

Although I was really tired (again) today, I am still feeling more back to normal. At around 2 pm I hit the wall, and had to have some tea. I think I'm done with the detox diet, one day early. I'm feeling better and back in the habit of eating fruits and vegetables again, so, mission accomplished.

To celebrate, I decided to make homemade veggie (bean) burgers and fries tonight. I've never made veggie burgers before from scratch. I used a Mark Bittman recipe as a base and had some fun with flavorings. Turned out pretty good; photos tomorrow (hopefully... I still can't find that silly cord). They were very easy and quite delicious. The fries were just Trader Joes fries. Also very good. I am soooo full.

So, easing back into a somewhat normal routine. Getting caught up at work, cooking more at home, immersing myself in books again, etc. It feels good, although one downside is that now that I'm feeling more myself, the piles of mess that we've pushed off to the side to be sorted 'later' are starting to bug me. So maybe some organization this weekend. Although unless I feel significantly more energetic, I may just hang out with books and Terri all weekend and ignore the messy corners. If I can.

Some things I am proud of today:
1. getting my inbox at work down to 39 emails, from 200+ earlier this week
2. making some darn good veggie burgers, first try!
3. not falling apart for two days in a row!
4. uh, that's all I can think of.

Fading now. Time for the rest of Top Chef and then to bed. I cannot WAIT to sleep in for TWO DAYS IN A ROW this weekend! Awesome.

Library Loot

Again, Eva has a great post. This week, it's about Library Loot. Coincidentally, I just went to the library today and overindulged (is that possible, to overindulge at the library?). I just got a big list of recommendations from Dark Carnival and a couple of other sites, so I was armed and ready. Seems to be tending towards the dark and mysterious, but oh well.

Here is what I got:

* The Grotesque, a gothic mystery set in England. A paralyzed master, evil butler, and black humor throughout. What could be better?

* Was, a "disturbing yet fascinating" retelling of the Oz story.

* Hostage To The Devil, a non-fiction recounting of 'actual' stories of possessions. I am a sucker for this kind of thing.
* The Trickster, another dark mystery. Publisher's Weekly says, "A seamless fusion of the supernatural and the psychological distinguishes this page-turning first novel, an impressive distillation of the Native Canadian experience"

* Hotel Transylvania, a book I just happened upon while browsing. An older gothic vampire-romance tale (the first in a long series) that I hadn't heard of before. Looks like good fun.

And two others I picked up with Terri in mind, but will probably browse as well:

* The Soul's Religion: Cultivating a Profoundly Spiritual Way of Life. I like Thomas Moore's books and have read most of them. This one seems appropriate and compelling.

* On Becoming an Alchemist: A Guide For The Modern Magician. Metaphysical-spiritual angle on the alchemist's search for transformation. Terri has a thing for alchemy, and I want to explore alchemy-themed art. Seems like an interesting book to investigate.

In other news, I'm finally feeling better. I feel like a new person today. I'm not sure why. Detox diet? Catching up on sleep? Burned out all the grouchy carbons? I don't know, but I'll take it. I feel more like myself. A tired self, but not a homicidal and/or suicidal self. Yesterday I felt like a monster. A depressed, exhausted, teary, achy, puffy, annoyed/annoying, irritable grouchy monster. Today I'm in a decent mood, which compared to how I have been feeling, feels like a freaking fantastic mood!

And Terri is feeling a little better too. Blessings all around. Thank God. We were on the verge of going under, for awhile. I don't even know what I mean by that, but it wouldn't be pretty in any case.

Book: The Land of Laughs

This is my first Jonathan Carroll book (and his first book), and it was a good introduction, I think.

Thomas Abbey, son of a famous actor, is a disgruntled English teacher. His favorite author of all time is Marshall France, the creator of slightly twisted and weird children's books, books which Abbey adores and is sort of obsessed with.

Thomas meets an intense girl named Saxony while bargaining with her for a rare France book, and a relationship begins. Soon, Thomas and Saxony decide to try and write a biography of their favorite author. They travel to small-town Galen, Missouri, where France lived as somewhat of a recluse. Once they arrive, they start to think that things might not be quite as they seem. And indeed, they are not.

At once light, funny, strange, and a curious mix of fiction and magical realism (or something -- I get all those fantasy sub-genres mixed up), this was a pretty quick read and I had no idea what to expect. The book definitely kept me guessing, and when the revelations came, they were surprising and a little scary.

But not scary enough. For me, anyway.

You see, Marshall France was a special kind of author. Most authors create the world in which their characters live, to a certain degree. Marshall France actually created the world and the characters. Like, he's like God. So this is sort of cool and sort of not-entirely-unexpected, but I felt like the revelation was sort of oddly skimmed over and made less amazing than it could be. The circumstances around this world and the people in it are also vaguely disturbing, but again, I didn't think it went far enough -- the oddness and the frightening aspects were sort of glossed over. Sometimes that's an effective means of portraying weird stuff -- what you create in your imagination is worse than the author could tell you -- but in this case, I really was left wanting more "oomph", for lack of a better term.

I wish this book had been much darker, I guess. It felt sort of like Good Omens (I know, I blaspheme the sacred text!), where for some reason I didn't quite get into the 'funny and light' mood while reading it -- I felt like a different tone would have suited it better. Or suited me better, perhaps. But then, I never fully appreciate this particular sort of odd humor. I'm not a Douglas Adams devotee. I'm not a complete grump -- I get that it's funny, and I enjoy the humor, but it doesn't speak directly to my heart as it seems to some other people. This is a character flaw in myself that I intend to work on.

So anyway, the book trundles along being amusing and slightly disturbing, until the very quick and very strange and very sudden ending. I'm not at all sure what I think of the ending. I shut the book and said aloud, "That was weird." This is where the discrepancy of the happy-and-light comes slamming up against the dark, and it felt jarring and strange and too sudden. It should have been nightmarish, but instead it was simply -- strange.

I don't know what I think. I liked it, and a certain grim side of myself enjoyed the ending, but it did seem sort of sudden. And I wondered what happened after the ending. Which I guess is a good thing.

I did really enjoy certain parts of the book, for instance the Marshall France book excerpts and references to France characters. I liked how Carroll (the author) just writes as if everyone knows what a Marshall France book is, and everyone is familiar with the structure and the characters and the titles. I thought that was an effective way to immediately put you into this world. I wish I could read a Marshall France book! I enjoyed the France character names (The Queen of Oil, Krang the kite, etc.), and the slightly creepy, melancholy storylines that are only vaguely hinted at.

I keep thinking that the France books are modelled after a real author's books, but I can't decide who. Maybe a mixture of L. Frank Baum, Roald Dahl and Johnny Gruelle, in which case I can totally see why Thomas Abbey was obsessed with the books. I can be obsessive over children's books, myself.

So anyway. It was good, and I will definitely read another Carroll book, but it wasn't as good as I had hoped, and maybe I just didn't get it but it wasn't quite what I felt it had been hyped as. But maybe his books get better as he gets more experienced with writing.

One last note: Neil Gaiman wrote a blurb for the cover, which really did speak to my heart, as books are a comfort and refuge for me: "The Land of Laughs is a book for anyone who has ever believed that a favorite book could be a safe place to go when things get hard." This won't be the book I turn do when things get hard, but I completely understand the sentiment.