Memoir triple header

I have been reading like a fiend again, maybe in anticipation of expecting to have less time for pleasurable reading in the near future.

The first book, Getting a Grip by Monica Seles just caught my eye in the biography section of the new books area in our library. I don't know diddly about tennis, except that my aunts used to play and teach it (it might have been how they met?) and that one exceptional day as a child they took my brother and I to a court and tried to teach us. I was not inclined toward athleticism even then, and the best thing I remember about the day was that the Gatorade we got after trying to hit an entire basket of balls back across the net was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life. I still have a fondness for Gatorade to this day.

Anyhow, Monica's book (I feel like we're on a first-name basis after reading her story) was wonderful. Did she really write it herself? Who knows, but who cares? It was well-written, compelling and surprisingly relevant for me. Not that I have ever faced pressure as intense as that to which a world-class athlete is subjected, but her struggle with weight wa the hook for me. I'm not giving anything away, the subtitle of the book is (On My Body, My Mind, My Self), and this line from the jacket: "...it's hard to believe that spectacularly fit former tennis champion Monica Seles struggled with binge-eating and depression" pretty much give it away. I saw that and thought, huh, that sounds familiar. Not the spectacularly fit part, the other bit. So I read it. I really gained a lot from reading this book, and I would recommend it to anyone else for whom food is a favorite drug. I am glad that it sounds like she's found a purpose for her life now that she's retired from pro tennis, and it sounds like a wonderful one, at that. And I didn't see her on Dancing with the Stars, but that she was on it at all, I thought that was great. I can't even stand the anxiety of being surrounded by a simple jam circle, much less the eyes of the American television-viewing public.

The next book I read was Mornings with Barney: The True Story of an Extraordinary Beagle by Dick Wolfsie. Hilarious. A laugh-out-loud funny book about a morning newscaster from Indiana and the mischievous beagle (redundant, I know) stray who adopted him. I am a sucker for beagles, and the photo on the cover of this book was irresistable. Still, I've gotten a little quicker to ditch books that I'm not enjoying, but I picked this up on Wednesday evening and finished it Thursday morning before leaving for work. A quick read, very well-written, and so funny that I had tears streaming down my cheek more than once from laughing so hard. Want to laugh? Read this book. You will not regret it.

I stll needed more memoir, so I went back to new biographies and found Breakfast at Sally's: One Homeless Man's Inspirational Journey by Richard LeMieux. The writing was clearly only so-so from the very beginning, but I decided to give it a chance anyhow, mostly because The Professor and I had a heated debate about homelessness on our way home from a weekend away last month, and then not long after my illustrious father was spouting off on the phone to me about how the economy is tanking and the entire middle class will all be living under bridges before we know it. Uh, right. But I digress.

As a memoir, this book disappoints. Only the barest details about how his family abandoned him to his crippling depression after he went bankrupt and left him to live in his van are given, and he refers to his despair periodically, but having withheld enough of his story to help me decide whether or not I was sympathetic to his plight, it cast a rather fishy light on the situation to me, and I honestly spent too much of the book feeling suspicious of his motives for even writing the book. Memorializing the homeless people who have no voice in the mainstream world? Healing his own pain by coming to terms with his past? Just trying to make a buck? Of these possible reasons, only the last seems plausible, and well, that's not a motive that makes for a great read.

The glowing quotes from Salvation Army employees on the cover bring to mind that it's probably great PR for their organization, but still, this book left me feeling like I had been jerked around. Many of the stories he tells are quite moving, and it's hard not to be affected by the idea of a mom and her two young sons living in a storage unit, or runaway teens living in an ever-shrinking-to-development woods near a mental hospital, or two women whose so-called landlady steals their public assistance checks and locks up their shoes before leaving for work in the morning and lures homeless men with the promise of a free place to stay only to demand rent the next day after having "talked it over with her husband." But these stories are not LeMieux's, and his right to use them seems suspect to me, especially when his motive for telling them is so murky. I'm glad he's now off the street (yes, I'm ruining the book for you, but I'm not recommending it, and one rather suspects that having had a book published he's probably out of the van by now), but I don't think I'll be picking up his next book that his bio mentions he's writing. Don't bother with this one unless you've got a mad desire to read anything you can about homelessness, and even then, I'm sure you can find many better things to read first.

Book: Outliers

Subtitle: The Story of Success

by: Malcolm Gladwell

What a fantastic book. Gladwell does it again. I love his writing and the topics he chooses. This book is one that I want to recommend to a number of people I know. Chris, Steve, Ken, Erica and Adi, all of you would dig this book. I even want my dad to read it, especially the part about the airplane crashes, because I think it might help him get over his fear of flying, although who knows, that could backfire and make it worse.

This book's most striking point to me is that one of the biggest determinants of success is just plain showing up. Do something for 10,000 hours and you'll be awesome at it. Sounds like a no-brainer, but I love that how long it takes to master something to the point of virtuosity is quantifiable. I mean, one can keep track of how close one is to 10,000 hours. It's a lot of hours, but it's not infinite. You're slogging away at some skill you're trying to master, and you think Am I there yet? Well, have you been at it for long enough? If not, just keep going, eventually you are going to get there. I like that. It appeals to me. Anyone can succeed if you just refuse to give up.

I also liked about this book the idea that a cultural legacy to behave in a certain way can be with you even if you don't know it. I'm descended on one side from Scotch-Irish Tennessee immigrant stock, and the whole chapter that dealt with how people from that kind of background, even generations back, often react in a predictable way in certain situations made a lot of sense to me. I always just thought it was my Scorpio rising and Pluto-Sun tendencies that made me the kind of person you do not want to piss off, but who knows, it could be some reptile part of my brain that was passed on in my DNA. Maybe it's both. Not that it isn't still something to work on and overcome-- I'd love to be more mellow, less irascible in certain situations-- but the idea that it's maybe not just some random personal flaw appeals to me.

Reading this book over the weekend was so timely, having learned this morning of the death of one of the world's most amazing swing dancing legends, Frankie Manning. Frankie was an outlier, a rock star in the swing dance world who achieved amazing success and the aforementioned legendary status, and a bunch of the factors that Gladwell discusses in his book might have had something to do with that. I'm a little fuzzy on Frankie's history, but I'm sure the 10,000 hour rule can be applied to his life. Opportunity in the form of living near the Savoy Ballroom at just the right age and just the right time in the history of music and dance, and then being asked to come out of retirement and teach dancing again back in the 80s. His own innate joyful attitude about life and dance that came through even to people who only met him briefly, like me, was clearly a factor in his success.

Frankie is a wonderful inspiration to so many people, and I don't know how anyone could look at the story of his life and think anything other than, Wow, I only wish I could touch so many lives for the better. Let's all try to be like Frankie, passionately returning to our dreams and our loves and using our talents to inspire others. Let's all be outliers to the point where there's no such thing anymore.

Book: The Spiral Staircase

Subtitle: My Climb Out of Darkness

By: Karen Armstrong

Another memoir, this book was a hand-me-down from my stepmother. I really enjoyed it. Very hard to put down; I was disappointed when I went to pay my cable bill in person the other day and encountered no line whatsoever so I wouldn't have an excuse to get some reading done. The author documents life after leaving the convent in 1969 after 7 years as a nun. What I loved about this book was how she hit so many dead ends and just kept going until she eventually found her way to a life that fit her. This book made me think of so many people when I was reading it that I recommend it to anyone, especially anyone interested in the idea of vocation and how we find ours. I'm looking forward to reading her first memoir next, about the time during which she was a nun, and some of her other books on religion. And if only I could get my hands on the BBC video she did in the 1980s.

Book: Falling into Manholes

Subtitle: The Memoir of a Bad/Good Girl

By: Wendy Merrill

I can't resist a memoir, especially one that reminds me of my own monk/party girl split. This book was easy to read in a day, in 15-minute intervals interspersed with doing chores. It was definitely on the depressing side, and the writing style was annoying because it felt like the author was just trying too hard to be cute and clever and show how many little plays on words she could invent for any given situation. It comes out very late in the book that her little word games are a coping mechanism, which almost makes the fact that she wrote practically an entire book of them even more depressing. I mean, I do long division in my head to cope with stress, but I wouldn't publish a book of it.

I wouldn't recommend this book unless you are a diehard memoir fan like me or have an interest in stories about recovery. One thing I would say is pick up the book if you are in the store, and look at the author's photo. She is a knockout, but as the book describes, she has major self-esteem issues. It just goes to show that it doesn't matter what you look like but how you feel about yourself. Yesterday at the dentist the assistant asked if I ever had braces or wanted them and I just said, "Who am I, Julia Roberts? I do not need perfectly straight teeth." I mean, ability to chew? Check. Let's move on to more important matters. But skip this book.

Book: How Starbucks Saved My Life

Subtitle: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live Like Everyone Else

by Michael Gates Gill

A decent book. I did at one point wonder whether it was his idea to write it or one of his Starbucks supervisor's, because it reads at times like a giant ad for the corporation, interspersed with backflashes of shameless namedropping. The overall story is a good one, though, and interesting to someone like me who is fascinated by people's journeys to earn the money to buy food. I would recommend this book mainly because it is such a quick read and because the basic story, summed up adequately in the subtitle, has a good message. Money isn't everything, and the trappings of success are sometimes more of a trap.

Audiobook: Gentlemen of the Road

Subtitle: A Tale of Adventure

Written by: Michael Chabon

Read by: Andre Braugher

It took me a bit to warm up to this book, but I blame my own failure to read either the subtitle or the blurb on the back of the box for my initial lack of enthusiasm. Having no idea where the book was set or who were its characters, combined with the reading of various quotes at the beginning of the book, which are less obvious, when heard, as separate from the story, I started out with something of a handicap. I'm glad that I stuck it out, though, because the story was enjoyable, the writing was wonderfully descriptive, and even if the action was set in a very different time than the language used to tell it, the afterword by the author was worth the whole investment. The working title of the book was something other than the published title, and I'll leave it to y'all to find out for yourselves what it was. Braugher does a fine job as reader, as well. His voice is rich and comforting, and his expressiveness adds a nice layer to the story. I'll probably try to find out if he's done any other audiobooks (could he be my new Scott Brick?).

I've been a fan of Chabon's ever since The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, which I first read so long ago that I can't even remember when it was-- in college? Just after? It's one of my favorite books, and the writing is so good it's one of the few that I have read multiple times (the others being J.D. Salinger's, well, all of his stuff, John Steinbeck's Cannery Row, and Madeleine L'Engle's Ring of Endless Light). I haven't been keeping track of his more recent work, and this book inspires me to get through the backlog of titles Chabon's been cranking out since I quit paying attention, in addition to another read of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, a perfect book for the end of summer.

I would definitely recommend this audiobook as a delightful accompaniment to any long-distance car ride. At just over 4 hours, it's the perfect length for, well, a visit from Cleveland to Pittsburgh.

(Pssst: The photo of the book is a link, too, because I finally realized I could do that.)

Book: Lasermonks

Subtitle: The Business Story Nine Hundred Years in the Making

by: Sarah Caniglia and Cindy Griffith

If in my sewing life, I'm a shark who has yet to make the kill, then in my reading life, I'm Goldilocks. If Nickel and Dimed left me too hot (burning with desire to do anything possible to avoid a low-wage life), and Bait and Switch left me too cold (chilled to the core with fear for the future of regular old jobs) this latest book, another just-over-one-day read, was juuuuust right.

I learned of this book from the newsletter Winning Ways written by Barbara Winter, but I had learned of the ideas behind this book from my friend Rachel on her blog, which is what drove me to read it (that and it being available at our fabulous library). The idea of a business (in the case of an abbey of monks in Wisconsin, selling toner and more) supporting charitable works seems like a wonderful one to me, and I enjoyed reading about how the monks have grown their business with the help of the laywomen who authored this book. My only wish would be that the authors had made it a little more clear who they were and how they came to participate in the monks' project, because I kept rereading the first few pages of the book thinking, "Huh? Who is we?" To save others the confusion, two women learned of the monks' project from a news story, wanted to sell the monks their online toner business and instead wound up helping the monks grow theirs.

Lasermonks is not a very good primer for someone who actually wants to start a social enterprise, the advice they give is vague at best, but it's a nice inspiring story about a social enterprise that is thriving. It gave me some food for thought as I continue on my path of trying to find work that sustains both me and the world. Could I possibly employ a similar model? They donate all their profits to charity. Gulp, sounds daunting, but maybe it could also provide much-needed motivation to get off the dime as well as momentum to keep going. Can I get in a similar mindset with regard to customer service? Their practice is to follow the Rule of St. Benedict, which essentially says treat every guest (customer) as if he or she might actually be Jesus Christ popping in for a visit. You know, like royalty. Those who know me know that I am not quite that much of a people-pleaser, so that sounds even more challenging, but it's certainly a worthy aspiration.

I highly recommend this book to other entrepreneurs who are looking for ways to tie a business to good works (Rachel, I'm looking at you) or for anyone who, like me, might have been reading too much depressing stuff lately and needs a pick-me-up. Oh, and if you need to buy toner? For heaven's sake, check the Lasermonks out.

Book: Bait and Switch

Subtitle: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream

by: Barbara Ehrenreich

If Nickel and Dimed lit a fire under me to do something with my talents and energy, this book chilled me to the bone. Instead of going under cover as a wage slave, Ehrenreich investigates the world of white collar job-seekers, and it seems like the entire time she's in that world, she's standing in the middle of something that is rotting from the inside out. I have never been part of the big corporate world she tries to penetrate. When I have taken my various breaks from attempts at self-employment, my jobs have been at non-profits, academic institutions, and in the cozy (read: incestuous) world of medical publishing, hardly in the same league as giant pharmaceutical and telecommunications companies. I have always thought that I could never squeeze myself into the mold that those kinds of employers would require me to inhabit, and to hear her tell it, I've always been right. I would wither and die if I had to get a job-job in the sort of setting that she describes. Heck, I almost did wither and die at the couple jobs (non-profit and academic) that most closely tried to emulate that big corporate world, and the only thing that kept me from doing so was excessive quantities of wine. But what really made me shiver about this book is how Barbara Ehrenreich, who I hold in pretty high esteem because, well, have you read any of her books? The woman is sharp. How could she possibly fail to get a job?

I thought often of my friend Steve (Hi, Steve!) when I was reading this book, wondering what he, as a different sort of career coach than the ones Ehrenreich visits, would make of it. I also thought of my friend Loreto who turned me on to the news that a sort of sequel to Nickel and Dimed had been written in the first place, wondering whether it made him feel better or worse about his government job. And I thought of my friends who can exist in that world (Brian, Jaffa, and Beth come to mind) and wondered how on earth they do it.

This book reinforced that self-employment is the only way to go for me. Even if you're not entrepreneurially inclined, I would recommend this book just on the basis of the wry humor that Ehrenreich brings to such a depressing topic as begging for crumbs at the big corporate table. Her writing is crisp and punchy, and the topic is quite compelling to anyone who is less than 100% satisfied with his or her work life. Sadly, there seem to be a lot of us.

Book: Nickel and Dimed

Subtitle: On (Not) Getting By in America

by Barbara Ehrenreich

I read this book while on hiatus from Not Buying It, which was both too boring and too depressing to carry on reading at the time. Nickel and Dimed tends toward the depressing side as well, although the writing is far superior and the social commentary vastly more concise, appropriate and compelling. Yes, Ehrenreich was also writing about an experience constructed purely to produce the fodder for a book, but let's face it, she just did a much better job. For one, thing, her jokes are funnier. I couldn't put Ehrenreich's book down and finished it in only a couple days. It was fascinating, and it made me want to get off my butt and put my nice shiny college degree to good use.

I would recommend Nickel and Dimed to anyone, especially anyone with even the slightest interest in economics or the effects of employment on class in the US. If you ever wanted to know what it's like to wait tables in a greasy spoon or clean toilets for a living, it's much easier to read this book than to go out and experience it first hand. It was certainly enough insight for me, and the entire time I was reading it, I just kept thinking how lucky and privileged I am to be able to get a better sort of job than the people in that book. Soo lucky. Thank you, stepfather, for paying for my college. Thank you Dean Tidmarsh for keeping me from dropping out. Lucky, blessed, and grateful am I.

I notice while adding links for this post that a quote by Ehrenreich praising Levine's book appears at the top of Levine's book page. Well, I'm glad she liked it. That makes one of us.

Nickel and Dimed is definitely worth a read, though. Enjoy.

Book: Not Buying It, My Year Without Shopping

By: Judith Levine

Well, this title appealed to me for obvious reasons. I finished it a couple months ago but haven't logged it here because, well, it just wasn't that great. Nothing to get too excited about and hence my delay in reporting on it. In fact, the only person to whom I'd recommend it is my friend Adi, and only because the writer and her partner split their time between Brooklyn and Vermont. The writing was decent, but the book really sagged in the middle (I wound up setting it down for a couple weeks and reading something else), and on top of that, the author conducted her experiment during 2004, so the reader gets the depressing opportunity to relive that year's presidential election, which is not a plus in my opinion. My main beef with this book is that the personal account, which constitutes all the good bits, is too frequently peppered with social and political commentary on the state of the world and instead of being an insightful look at one person's experience it too often turns into a boring rant about consumerism's many evils. Blah blah blah. Like I said, I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone but Adi, and even to Adi I say, have a good back-up plan to revive yourself from potential boredom.

Book: The Big Turnoff

Subtitle: Confessions of a TV-Addicted Mom Trying to Raise a TV-Free Kid

By Ellen Currey-Wilson

I got this one out of the new books section of the library, a delightfully sunny open spot where I know just which shelves have the memoirs on them. I figured this book was especially appropriate for TV Turn-off Week (I just had to get in one last mention, did anyone else who's reading participate this year?), and it was a quick read. It was a little bit difficult to read at times, because I recognized myself a bit in the author, and she seems like a bit of a whack-job in parts. I also was reminded in part why I don't want kids: I might be the same kind of parent, rather extreme about some things. That and all the horror stories my neighbors and others are constantly telling me about pregnancy and child-rearing. They don't mean them as horror stories, but to me they are. Losing your teeth to the calcium needs of the fetus? Being covered in someone else's vomit? Not for me.

Anyhoo, back to the book. It was decent. It might sound arrogant to say it, but often I read books and think, I could do better than that. One might not believe it from the quick posts I dash off here, but I really think I could do a better job. And maybe if I didn't watch so much TV (well, DVDs) myself, I would get around to writing a book some day, so until then I'll shut up and just say bravo to the people who do get it together to publish books. Meanwhile, it was good to read about someone else kicking the habit. I consider it TV to be of my worst vices, a shameful addiction. I want to just put the TV(s) in the attic for a few years, but it's my numb-out drug when things get too overwhelming, which is so often these days. I don't know if I would recommend the book, but I would recommend TV Turn-off Week next year. I might not even wait until next year to try it again. I got a lot of reading done (switching escape modes, I know, but one has to take it in stages sometimes, right?), and I felt happier overall. I definitely could use more of that.

Book: The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton

This book was one of the rejects on the day I picked A Dangerous Fortune, but I picked it up after finishing that one. I had gotten it on sale, I think, ages ago and then never read it. Either that or I inherited it from my mom, not sure. It was worth saving all this time, either way. I liked it. My vast ignorance of history serves me well in the genre of historical fiction, because I'm never quite sure how things turn out. Set in the 1850s in Kansas Territory, it's the fictional autobiography of a wife of an abolitionist settler. The really enjoyable part of this book was not so much the plot, which was good, too, but the voice of the narrator-heroine. It was also the perfect book to be reading as I passed through Gettysburg on my way to the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. My Gettysburg and MDSW adventures are topics for another post, but I enjoyed visiting a similar time period in this book, just prior to the Civil War. I would recommend this book, to anyone really. It's a solid piece of fiction, exceptional writing, not quite a dandy good yarn, but with a story line that's certainly good enough to keep one entertained and interested right up to the end.

Book: A Dangerous Fortune

by Ken Follett

To set the scene: It's late Sunday afternoon. I've just finished reading The Big Turnoff (review still to come, but it's a memoir, still my current favorite genre), and the library has closed. One more official day of TV Turn-off Week remains. Sure, our house is full of books, but are any of them things I want to start reading Right Now?

I pull a few off the shelf. A Jane Smiley novel bought at a bargain table that's sat untouched for years. A novel my Dad loaned me (whoops, thought it had been a gift). Some astrology books. Knitting books from the library. Nothing appeals. I wish I could go to the library and get the book I want to read next, The Plug-In Drug, just to torture myself, but that adventure will have to wait. The Professor suggests another Ken Follett novel. I read a page or two, not really interested, but then...

I got sucked in. So, I started this book Sunday evening, and I finished it today. That's what not watching TV will do to a girl (it still hasn't come back on in our house). I stayed up way too late reading last night and still managed to wake up this morning at 6:30 am and be at work by 7:30 am (ugh). I enjoyed the book. The one thing I will say is that Ken Follett is much nicer than I am. His villains suffer, but they do not suffer enough for me. I want them to twist in agony for a really long time, and I want a front-row seat to watch it, but I am consistently denied. Maybe I need to start writing my own novels so that I can bring some true wrath down on a villain of my own. Maybe after he has written a novel and spent so long with the characters, he has a soft spot for even the bad guys and that's why he lets them off the hook. Maybe he has an editor who censors out the full punishment inflicted on these villains. I do not know the answer, but it frustrates me.

So, not as good as Pillars of the Earth, and frankly a tad predictable because of having read it, but a fun quick read with the usual good triumphing over evil in the end. And fiction is becoming interesting to me again in a way that it hasn't in a long time, so that's a pleasant side effect. The Plug-in Drug is waiting for me at the library now. I think I will wander down to fetch it.

Book: In Defense of Food

Subtitle: An Eater's Manifesto

by Michael Pollan

This book is woefully overdue at the library, but I had to wait a while to get it, so I was willing to pay the fine for me and The Professor to read it, and since it was TV Turn-off Week last week (hmmm, have I mentioned that enough times yet?), I was especially concerned about having compelling books to fill the void left by the boob tube. I finished it Saturday, and The Professor's about half way through it. Soon, fellow library patrons, we will return it so that you can have your turn.

When I first started this book, I could only read it in small doses, because the overall message, while hopeful, is bolstered by some rather depressing facts about the industrialization of our food supply. I was pleased that Pollan referenced, albeit briefly, one of my favorite books and one that stoked my love of non-fiction, The Paradox of Plenty by Harvey Levenstein, which is brilliantly written, funny, enlightening-- all the things I look for in a book. I wish I had had Pollan's book 17 years ago when I read Levenstein's, although I don't think this new book could have been written then. What I like about Pollan's book is that it cuts through the BS about diet recommendations and says, you know what? Forget all that, we don't understand the science well enough and we might never; just make healthy choices and be done with it. And he's quite clear and simple about what those healthy choices are, which is refreshingly useful. Trying to follow nutritional recommendations has never really worked for me, but I think I can follow the simple rule to eat only food that my great-grandmother would recognize as food. That one's easy to remember.

I remember when my inner health-food nut was awoken from it's slumber by my dear friend Adi feeding me sprouted grain breads and different kinds of nut butter on our lunch break from the American Poetry Center one day. Not long after, I started taking macrobiotic cooking classes and got turned on to delicious things like Jerusalem artichokes and hato mugi (the most delicious barley in the world). I remember the first time I ate burdock and thought, How can I have not known about this delicious food before now? If only I'd had Pollan's book telling me, yeah, none of what you've been taught about nutrition is based on a solid enough foundation to put your faith in it completely, I think that would have helped me quite a bit even when I let macrobiotics slip away from me. Alas, I've had to muddle along without it, but now that I've read it, I hope to use these simple ideas to improve my diet even more.

The book is well-summarized by the seven-word description on the cover, "Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much." I would summarize his recommendations for eaters in eight words. "Shop at the farmer's market. Plant vegetables. Cook."

Book: The Lost Ravioli Recipes of Hoboken

I read about this book on someone else's blog (spoiler warning: she tells more about the books contents than I will). I have no idea how I even found and started reading that blog, but I thoroughly enjoy it. The writer, Tea, spins lovely tales, takes fantastic photos, and from what I can tell makes incredibly delicious and complicated homemade food. It's always a treat to see a post of hers pop up in my Google Reader.

Well, we all know how much I can't resist a good memoir, so when I heard about this one I went straight to my library('s web site) to check it out. Since it's TV Turn-off Week this week, I have been reading in the evenings, and I plowed through this book in only a couple days (Michael Pollan was, through no fault of his own, bumming me out). I haven't read the recipes in the back yet, but I do plan to make some homemade ravioli at some point, if for no other reason than to heal The Professor's relationship with this fine foodstuff. Apparently as a child, he was served some canned cafeteria ravioli in school, and since the rule at home was Clean Your Plate, he just sat there crying because they were so disgusting he couldn't force himself to eat them, until a kind teacher released him from ravioli jail and let him dump the vile things in the trash.

I'm planning to use mom's pasta machine (I know my limits), and heck, maybe even the KitchenAid again. Reading about food is hungry-making, though, and last night I finally couldn't stand it anymore, and we went out for dinner to a newly opened Japanese restaurant a few blocks from our house because the author mentioned gyoza as a ravioli-like item from a non-Italian cuisine. These were interesting gyoza, I think they contained either fish or chicken, not the beef I'd been expecting, but that was fine. I was all about the pasta wrapper anyhow.

About the book: I enjoyed it. Well written, compelling, and informative. I learned a lot I didn't know about ravioli and cooking traditions in general, I was drawn in by the family history aspects of the book, and I sincerely cared whether she'd achieve her goal of finding the lost recipes and recreating them successfully. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in food and culinary tradition (ahem, Kelly, Anne, Claudia). But I would caution you to plan to have some delicious meals ready to go because while you are reading, you are going to get hungry.

Books: World Without End and Pillars of the Earth

I got almost all the way to Scotland and back with my knitting in my carry-on, but in Glasgow, coming home, they told me my knitting needles would not make it through security and that I'd have to check them. To be fair, they were kind enough to tell me so before I checked my bag, so I put them in the suitcase and pouted. I then indulged myself in buying two new books, including this one by Ken Follett, sequel to his Pillars of the Earth, which I had finished while on vacation. I actually started the first book before vacation officially started, which made for a bit of a problem, because I couldn't put the book down to do things like pack, so I packed very quickly the morning we left (but I didn't forget anything, so it was all good).

Pillars of the Earth was good, a very compelling story, a real page-turner. The Professor's entire family had been encouraging me to read it for years, and I was glad that I finally did. I liked most of the characters, except the evil villains of course, who I dutifully despised. I thought the story was well-crafted and interesting. A nice healthy serving good triumphing over evil in the end.

World Without End was equally compelling. I couldn't put it down and read it very quickly for the 1,111-page book that it was. It was a bit too similar to the original for me to enjoy it quite as much. It was much easier to know what was coming because of all the parallels, and that dampened my enthusiasm but only a little, because I still gobbled it up. It took a lot longer for good to triumph over evil in the second book, there were fewer swings of the pendulum between good guys and bad guys prevailing, and one of the main bad guys in the second book was not a guy at all but the plague. Sure, it's historically accurate, but watching everyone get killed off by a disease is much less satisfying than seeing them get their come-uppance in a more fitting manner, as they did in the first book. Still, it was good, and I recommend it to anyone looking to escape his or her life for a few days.

Audiobook, A War of Gifts: An Ender Story

by Orson Scott Card

Read by Stefan Rudnicki and Scott Brick

Loved this story. I love all the Bean and Ender books that I've read (ie, listened to, because I just love Scott Brick and Stefan Rudnicki, although I can do without Gabrielle de Cuir). This one is a short novella, although I realize now that I must have been listening to an abridged version, because it was only two CDs, and there is an unabridged four-CD version, so I'll have to go back to the library for that one.

It's set at Battle School at Christmas in the time after Ender arrives but before Bean. I love how science fiction is such a fantastic vehicle for social commentary. I thought of Rachel the entire time I was listening to this story and her efforts to reclaim Christmas this past year. I think listening to this book might become one of my Christmas rituals, right up there with watching Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas. I recommend this book, but of course to get the full enjoyment out of it, I recommend the entire Ender series and the entire Bean/Shadow series be read first. They really are fantastic books. If you commute by car or are going on a long driving trip, take some of these audiobooks along. You won't regret it.

Book: Made from Scratch

Subtitle: Reclaiming the Pleasures of the American Hearth

by: Jean Zimmerman

It took me a couple weeks to get through this one, only because life was getting in the way, and I couldn't just stay home and read all day. I actually finished it a couple weeks ago and had dreamed of writing a little more intelligent, in-depth review of it, but guess what? That's not happening. Suffice it to say, I quite enjoyed this book. I got it out of the library because it was on the shelf next to something else I was seeking, but I haven't read that one yet (a rather heavy-looking tome on the history of housework).

The book was well written, and I enjoyed the content as well as the style. My only beef with the book is the false advertising of the subtitle. Because the reclaiming part? The how the heck do we get back to being connected to our homes and the other people in them in a real way, through the making and sharing of homemade food, by cleaning up after ourselves for goodness sake, and maybe creating something handmade? Yeah, that was like 3 pages at the very end. It did not suffice.

A bunch of people floated to mind while reading this book. Kelly, Anne, Claudia: y'all would dig this book, I think. I would recommend it to anyone but y'all especially.

Book: A Three Dog Life, a memoir

By: Abigail Thomas

Heart-rending but short. I read it in about 2 hours, part while eating breakfast, the rest on the couch with the cat in my lap. It's written by a woman whose husband suffered traumatic brain injury. The writing is beautiful, but the story is sad. I recommend it, but line up something happy for when you finish it is my advice.

The part that stuck out to me most was how, in the wake of this tragedy, she has put together a life for herself that she can like and that she can enjoy at times, and how it used to be hard to live with the knowledge that she wouldn't have the life she does if her husband hadn't been hurt. I feel like that a lot. So many things in my life would be different if my mom hadn't died and even died when she did. I wouldn't have met The Professor, at least not in the same way. I wouldn't have my cat. I wouldn't have this house, or her car, or the ability to take this time to find work I love. I doubt I'd even be in Ohio. It's a very strange thing to realize how much one thing changes your life, and how it causes this weird schism when you don't like the thing that happened, but you do like your life. Here's what she writes:

So now today I look up acceptance and the definition is "to receive gladly" and that doesn't sound right. I flip to the back, and look up its earliest root, "to grasp," and discover this comes from the old English for "a thread used in weaving," and bingo, that's it. You can't keep pulling out the thread. You have to weave it in and then you have to go on weaving.

That pretty much sums it up.

And what am I doing reading this tragedy anyhow? Someone told me it was good, and even though I knew it would be sad, I'm still a sucker for memoirs. The writer is also a knitter. No good reason, but at least it was a quick read.

I cooked!

My most exciting news for the weekend is that I cooked. I have been really bad about cooking for a long time, leaving The Professor to fend for us most of the time for longer than I care to admit. Oh, the shame of it all. But Friday, spurred on by who knows what inspiration, I made some sweet potato soup in the crock pot (recipe from this cookbook) and boiled a big pot of brown rice. I couldn't risk interrupting my momentum to stop and snap photos, but it really didn't look like much anyhow. An enormous yam, an equally enormous onion, cut and plopped unceremoniously into the crockpot, along with some garlic (2 cloves), some spices, and 4 cups of turkey broth made from Old Tom, the turkey The Professor cooked a few weeks back. The broth was treated with the appropriate amount of reverence, especially as it was nicely measured out and clearly labeled in the freezer. After 6 hours in the crock pot, I processed it in the Cuisinart with a little bit of peanut butter and lime juice. Yum. The rice we ladled it over gave it a nice stick-to-your-ribs quality, and I was so glad to have it ready to go when The Professor got home from work.

Yesterday, I made both a casserole and rice pudding. The rice pudding was in the crock pot again, using this recipe, except I left out the apricots and used brown rice and some cream that we needed to use up subbed in for some of the milk. The pudding cooked overnight and made a delicious breakfast this morning-- we both had seconds. The casserole was the leftover rice from Friday plus a can (jar) of beef that we got from The Professor's mom and dad for Xmas (they gave us 10, and they put it up themselves, which made it an extra special gift), some frozen green beans, grated cheese (grated by himself) and some cream of ... soups (celery and mushroom) as well as some eggs and milk. I ought to have put in some spices as it was a bit bland, but it was clearly adequate because while it was cooking, The Professor came downstairs and said, "The whole house smells like dinner," in a happy and satisfied way. Why don't I cook for him more often? He certainly does appreciate it. Oh, and once I added some Worcestershire sauce to it, it was divine. Didn't discover that until eating it as leftovers for lunch today, but there's still half of it left to go. Mmmmmm, Worcestershire sauce. I practically licked the dish.

On the knitting front, BSJ #3 is nearing completion. I forgot to do my increases on the buttonhole row and so had to rip back, so here's a photo I snapped while the needles were out and it actually looked like something:

I will have *just* enough yarn, I think, if that. No I-cord edging this time around, though. I'll have to try it on my next one, because of course there will be more. I continue to be thrilled with the way the color changes worked themselves into nice healthy stripes and the way the two colors of yarn (the variegated hot pink/green/white/orange and the salmon pink) work together.

You can also see evidence in this photo (upper left corner) of me finally managing to read and knit at the same time-- the cookbook holder that has been languishing in one of our icky old cupboards for so long it's acquired a funky smell (and it's lucite, so that's got to be hard to do) comes out of retirement to hold my book on the table in front of me, hands free. I'm reading an excellent book called Made from Scratch (partly responsible for the cooking blitz?), and I'm about half way done. My reading progress is likely to skyrocket now that I can read while I knit. Goodbye, television! Hello, books!

The Professor is working on some rewiring today (upstairs hall light and bathroom outlet), and he opted for the wiring scenario that did not require a trip to the hardware store and the purchase of new materials, so that was good.
Oh, and speaking of not purchasing things, today I glued up my awesome homemade pill box that I made last weekend. From a nondescript gift box to a happy little pill container. I did a much better job this past week of taking my supplements since they were in this handy little box and didn't require me to dole them out of all the different bottles each time. Anything to get them down the hatch.

Time to finish the baby sweater, and ferret out some buttons from my insane button stash. Final photos to come tomorrow-ish. Hope everyone else is having as lovely a weekend as we are.