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Reading Round-Up: April 2014

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Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby.  I literally can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book.  Here are my reads for April, 2014…

The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves, and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History, by Robert M. Edsell – My grandmother recommended this history of a little known, not particularly organized group of American – and one British – officers who made it their mission to save Europe’s cultural treasures during and immediately after the battles of World War II.  It was dense but fascinating, and I was particularly intrigued by the story against the backdrop of some criticism about the book and film focusing on art when so many lives were being lost in horrific ways.  (I can understand the point, but I also feel that our art and culture is what makes us human, and I’m glad that the “Monuments Men” were able to save so much of it for the generations to come.)  I’d definitely recommend this, but you have to have some time, patience, and tolerance for a lot of information.

Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor (Jane Austen Mysteries #1), by Stephanie Barron – This was a cute and fluffy mystery of the “cozy” variety.  I’m not sure how I stumbled upon it, but it was fun.  Barron casts Jane Austen as an intrepid sleuth who solves a murder, acquits a friend, and has a Lizzie-and-Darcy-like encounter.  The writing took some getting used to (I think it’s always tough for a modern author to mimic the writing style of a past period) but it was amusing.  I’m not sure if I’ll continue on with the series – I probably will, but I’m not rushing out for the next book.

Crocodile on the Sandbank (Amelia Peabody #1), by Elizabeth Peters – The “indomitable” Amelia Peabody’s first adventure was a rollicking good ride.  A Victorian “spinster of independent means,” Amelia decides to do some traveling.  Trusty parasol in one hand, she makes for Egypt.  Along the way she picks up young Evelyn Barton-Forbes, quite literally, off the Roman pavement.  Amelia engages Evelyn as her “companion” because she wants someone to take care of, but it quickly becomes apparent that Evelyn is in charge.  The two women sail together down the Nile and stop at an archaeological dig led by brothers Radcliffe and Walter Emerson.  While they’re moored at the dig site, the women receive nighttime visitations from a mummy who seems bent on a reign of terror.  Nobody messes with Amelia, and she takes it upon herself to unmask the mummy and fix Evelyn up with Walter Emerson while she’s at it.  This was so much fun.  I recommended it to my mom, who picked it up and loved it too, and I went on to…

The Curse of the Pharoahs (Amelia Peabody #2), by Elizabeth Peters – (Unavoidable SPOILER alert!)  Amelia is now wife to Radcliffe Emerson and mother to the precocious toddler Ramses, and she and Emerson both are feeling a bit constrained by England when they receive a visit from one Lady Baskerville.  Her husband, an avid Egyptologist, was patronizing a dig when he died under mysterious circumstances, and she’d like Emerson to take over.  He agrees, grudgingly, but Amelia is looking forward to both the archaeological joys ahead, and to flexing her sleuthing muscle – because she’s convinced Lord Baskerville was murdered.  When Amelia and Emerson arrive at the dig, they discover that the matter is more complex than it seemed back in England, with no shortage of possible suspects.

The Mummy Case (Amelia Peabody #3), by Elizabeth Peters – Amelia and Emerson, accompanied by Ramses, head back to Egypt with the goal of excavating some pyramids, only to find themselves foiled by a malevolent government official.  Emerson takes out his frustration by being needlessly and annoyingly thorough in excavating the pile of rubble he does get, and Amelia turns to investigating the suspicious death of an antiquities dealer, the theft of a seemingly worthless mummy case from a collector, the possibility of a “Master Criminal” heading an antiquities theft ring, and the secretive antics of her all-too-precocious son Ramses.  Amelia is such fun, and I am loving my time spent with her and her wacky family.

Everyman’s Pocket Poets: Bronte, by Emily Bronte – As part of National Poetry Month and the Dewey’s 24-Hour Readathon, I picked up this little volume of Emily Bronte’s poetry.  I loved Bronte’s wild, weird imagery, although her fixation on the grave was a wee bit disturbing (but probably not surprising).  I definitely preferred Emily’s poems to her one novel, Wuthering Heights, which I’ve read several times and disliked more on each re-read.  Now I’d like to read her juvenilia.

Henrietta’s War: News from the Home Front 1939-1942, by Joyce Dennys – Henrietta is a doctor’s wife in a rural Devonshire village, who along with the rest of her social circle, is determined to do her part to help the effort on the Home Front during World War II.  In letters to her “childhood friend” Robert, somewhere amidst the fighting, she paints a vivid picture of the village life going bravely on.  She describes the antics of some of the local characters we all know – those people who sometimes cause us to shake our heads or roll our eyes, but who are part of the fabric of our everyday life – flirtatious Faith, bossy Mrs. Savernack, and kindly Lady B (my favorite) amongst them.  I loved Henrietta and my only complaint was that this book was much too short.  I could have happily read about Henrietta for hundreds more pages.   Recommended to anyone who enjoys epistolary novels, gentle fiction, or World War II stories.  I like all three, so this book was right in my sweet spot.

I can’t believe it’s May 14 and I’m only getting this post up now!  Sorry for the delay – I’d meant to post this on May 5, but was out of town and didn’t get it drafted ahead of time as I’d planned, and then had a crazy week at work when I returned.  Anyway… April was a fairly light month of reading.  Except for The Monuments Men, I didn’t attempt anything particularly meaty.  (Well, there’s the Bronte, too, but that was a short volume.)  Most of April was devoted to mysteries, and in particular to Amelia Peabody, so I can’t complain.  I have a post in the works about Amelia, and how she led me to a special discovery, so look for that next week.  And look for more Amelia in these monthly round-ups for many months to come, because we’re already good friends.  Henrietta provided the other April highlight, and I immediately picked up the second volume of her letters (which will be in the May round-up in just a couple of weeks).  The lighter reading was necessary as I got used to being back in the workplace.  I’m sure I’ll get back to some more challenging reads soon, but for now I’m just going easy on myself and reading whatever looks fun and not too punishing.  Which is usually mysteries, and mysteries, and mysteries.

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Mother’s Day 2014

Sorry for the sporadic posting last week!  I was out of town on Monday and wasn’t able to get a post up as I’d planned to do, and then work was so hectic the rest of the week that I only got Wednesday’s up.  Back to regularly-scheduled posting this week, I promise.  Starting with a recap of Mother’s Day, which was yesterday and pretty much a perfect day.

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Our celebrations started with brunch at Cecelia’s Ristorante, where my parents had stopped for drinks on Easter Sunday.  My mom came back raving about the plates of brunch she had seen going to other tables that day, so we decided to check it out for ourselves.  It was delicious.  Hubby and I had crab and lobster eggs Benedict, and my mom had a “breakfast BLT.”  Peanut ate fruit and hash browns off our plates.  We had a lovely time, and I stole plenty of kisses from the girl who made me a mom.

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After brunch, we put Peanut down for a nap, and I headed out on a glorious five mile run.  It felt so good to be out running after my busy, busy week and I enjoyed the warm sun, the pretty views, and waving to the many families out taking Mother’s Day walks.  I plotted my run out to end at Ashker’s, a juice bar in my neighborhood, and picked up a carrot-apple-ginger juice for my walk home.  Yum – perfectly fresh and sweet and just slightly spicy.  When I got home, Peanut was still asleep, so I spent the rest of naptime reading my book – Yes Chef, by Marcus Samuelsson – out on the back porch.

Peanut woke up a little after 3:00 and we fed her a quick snack and bottle, then headed to the park for some playground time.  We started on the swings:

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The playground was a mob scene, and when we let Peanut down from the swing she unsurprisingly decided to head toward the green instead of fighting her way through the crowds of other toddlers on the green car or by the animal wall.  She found a stick and had a marvelous time running around waving it and sweeping it back and forth across the grass.

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After we had played for about half an hour, Nana met us at the playground – she had been reading her book at the nearby lake all afternoon.  Peanut was so excited that Nana came out to play too!

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Yep, like I said, it was pretty much a perfect day.  I got my Mother’s Day wish – a beautiful, fun day with my favorite kid – and I even got my second Mother’s Day wish… blue skies, and green leaves on the trees!  After the epic long winter we had, those were a special treat indeed.

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I am so lucky to have this magnificent kid in my life!

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Happy Mother’s Day to all of my mom friends!  Hope your days yesterday were wonderful!

 

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Scraps of Poetry, Set to Music

(I had intended to post this last month, but it got bumped in favor of talking about The BookCon – so, National Poetry Month continues for one more post.)

Part of the intent behind National Poetry Month (at least I think, it wasn’t my invention) is to encourage people to read more poetry.  There’s certainly a kind of mystique to poetry, and it can seem intimidating or out-of-reach to many an “average” reader.  But there’s another kind of poetry that every high school kid (and pretty much everyone else, too) seems to just “get” – I’m talking about song lyrics.  How many times have you listened to a song and felt that the singer was speaking directly to you?  I know it’s happened to me, more times than I can count, and not just when I was an angsty teenager.  Here are some song lyrics I love, and I think these absolutely qualify as poetry:

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How long ’til my soul gets it right?
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light?
 I call on the resting soul of Galileo, king of night vision, king of insight.

~Indigo Girls, “Galileo”

When I was in high school, I used to exchange letters with H, a friend from camp who lived in another school district.  We would send each other long missives full of all the silliness two excessively bookish teenaged girls can dream up (although it didn’t seem silly at the time), exchange our hideously awful poetry (although it didn’t seem awful at the time) and punctuate our letters with song lyrics we loved (and still love to this day – at least I do, and I expect the same is probably true of H).  I favored the thought-provoking rock anthems of R.E.M. and opaque lines from Rusted Root.  H usually strayed toward the folksy, and especially Indigo Girls.  I loved them too, and I still listen to them often, and to this day, they remind me of H.  Especially “Galileo,” which was a song we both loved.

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When I’m alone, when I’ve thrown off the weight of this crazy stone,
 When I’ve lost all care for the things I own, that’s when I miss you.
That’s when I miss you, you who are my home.
You who are my home.
Here is what I know now, brother.
Here is what I know now, sister, goes like this: in your love, my salvation lies.

~Alexi Murdoch, “Orange Sky”

I no longer assume that every song I like was written just for me, or that I understand what the lyrics are supposed to mean.  But for me, “Orange Sky” will always be about the love between siblings.  Whenever I hear it – which is all the time, because I usually have the CD on repeat in the car – I think of my brother.  And my sisters-in-law.  And my best friends, R and J, who are like family to me.  And all the history that I have with all of those people, who have seen me at my worst and love me anyway.  (And the same goes for them.)

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How I lived a childhood in snow
And all my teens in tow, stuffed in a strata of clothes
Pale the winter days after dark
Wandering the gray Memorial Park, a fleeting beating of hearts

~The Decemberists, “January Hymn”

The Decemberists are a more recent love.  This lyric doesn’t hold any particular meaning for me at a given time of life, but I just love how gorgeously written it is.  Colin Meloy is a poet for sure.  I spent many an evening commute belting out the entirety of his “The King is Dead” album, which I think is masterful.

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So watch your time
Time descends
Let it spill quietly
From your hands
Oh, and the time is at hand
When all things under the sky
Go free of time
Time is passing you by
Got no time

~Alexi Murdoch, “Blue Mind”

Sorry to push more Alexi Murdoch on you (yes, I really do love his music) but this is another lyric that is poetry to me, and particularly meaningful poetry.  I listened to this song, over and over again, when Peanut was in the NICU.  I felt as though her first weeks were being stolen from me, and “Blue Mind,” with its image of time slipping away like grains of sand, spoke to me.  I sang it quietly to her, and “Orange Sky” as well, during Kangaroo Care, and I think she recognized it from all the times I listened to “Time Without Consequence” when I was expecting.

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Me, my thoughts are flower strewn
Ocean storm, bayberry moon
I have got to leave to find my way

~R.E.M., “Find the River”

Last one, but I couldn’t conclude a post with snippets of my favorite lyrics, without a nod to R.E.M.  (I have to be me.)  R.E.M. has been my favorite band since high school – recent loves for the Shins, the Decemberists, and Alexi Murdoch, among others, have not pushed Michael, Mike, Peter and Bill off their throne.  I love pretty much every R.E.M. song, but if pressed to name my favorite, I’d say “Find the River,” not just because it perfectly summed up the way I felt at seventeen, about getting my life underway already, but because I just love the words.

I could go on and on – and it does seem like so many favorites are missing – but this post has to end sometime.  Maybe there’s another post here, about the songs that have meant a lot to me at different times in my life – but that’s a story for a different day.

What songs are poetry to you?

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Poetry Friday: TO IMAGINATION, And Some Thoughts On Emily Bronte

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To Imagination
by Emily Bronte

When weary with the long day’s care,
And earthly change from pain to pain,
And lost and ready to despair,
Thy kind voice calls me back again:
Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,
While thou canst speak with such a tone!

So hopeless is the world without;
The world within I doubly prize;
Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt,
And cold suspicion never rise;
Where thou, and I, and Liberty,
Have undisputed sovereignty.

What matters it, that, all around,
Danger, and guilt, and darkness lie,
If but within our bosom’s bound
We hold a bright, untroubled sky,
Warm with ten thousand mingled rays
Of suns that know no winter days?

As I mentioned in my recap of the Dewey’s readathon, I’d been slacking on my plan to read some Emily Bronte poetry every day.  Like, really slacking, as in, I’d barely read any.  I had skimmed the little volume I picked up and found enough to post one poem here each Friday, but that was about it.  Work has kept me too busy to do as much reading as I wanted to do.  So I used the readathon as a chance to get caught up on my goal, and the above poem in particular struck me, because it just seems like such an honest description of what the world must have been like in Emily Bronte’s head.  The Bronte sisters’ life was rather bleak, it seems, and they escaped their trying circumstances by writing – not just their novels, but their poems and their fantasy stories.  I loved “To Imagination” for this glimpse at a Bronte’s heart.

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Some Thoughts on Emily Bronte’s Poetry

In eleventh and twelfth grade, my English classes had a joke about our teacher.  We joked that he was fixated on poems about death.  “If Mr. T gives you a poem to interpret and you don’t know what it’s about,” we advised each other, “just say it’s about death and you’ll definitely get an A.”  (All kidding aside, that advice actually worked for me, at least once, and not even in my regular class.  On the AP English exam, we were set to interpret a poem about blackberry picking.  I had no idea what this poem was supposed to be about, other than blackberry picking, of course.  So I said it was about aging and death, and boom, I got a 5 on the exam.)

Well, I think Bronte could do my English teacher one better.  At least 80% of her poems were about death – probably more, if I wasn’t blazing through them so quickly.  Very few of them weren’t downers in some way.  Even so, I loved Bronte’s wild, dramatic imagery and powerful language.  I could picture her, huddled in the parsonage while the winds whipped the heather around on the north Yorkshire moors, scribbling these lines by steadily diminishing candlelight – crossing out, starting again, maybe showing a piece to Charlotte for criticism.  I let the words work their magic, didn’t worry too much about the poet’s mental state, and wound up very glad I chose to read Bronte this month.  I still prefer Charlotte, but Emily has a newly-won fan.

Recap of National Poetry Month

If you missed my previous posts from National Poetry Month 2014, here they are:

Hark! It’s National Poetry Month
Poetry Friday: Tell Me Tell Me
A Favorite Poem
Peanut’s Picks: Mother Goose
Poetry Friday: Song by Julius Angora
Poetry Friday: When Days of Beauty Deck the Earth

I have one more National Poetry Month post to come, on Wednesday.  (It was originally supposed to post this past Wednesday, but I wanted to talk about BookCon instead.)

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If you were celebrating National Poetry Month, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

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BookCon’s Lily-White Lineup: Why We’re Still Talking About Diversity

 

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Participate in enough diversity training sessions, workshops, or talks – as most young professionals have at school and in our jobs – and you’ll hear your fair share of grumbling from Gen-X and Gen-Yers.  “Diversity training again?  Really?  It’s 2014.  Who still needs to be told this stuff?”

I’m a member of Gen-Y, and most of my friends are either Gen-X or Gen-Y.*  We grew up with the message that diversity is a good and important thing.  Our friends hail from all different races, religions, ethnic groups, backgrounds.  To the extent we think about our friends’ backgrounds (which, for most of us, isn’t much or often), we like the fact that our social groups are made up of so many different faces and backgrounds.  We value the different perspectives that come with the experience of belonging to all kinds of communities.  And sometimes, we can’t believe it still has to be spelled out, because… we know.  We know diversity is good.  We know it’s important.  We know it adds value.  Diversity is a value that’s ingrained in us, has been since childhood, and we simply can’t believe there are people out there who still don’t get it, and still need it explained to them.  Because, isn’t it obvious?

Apparently, it’s not.**  Every so often, an outrage happens that leaves people shaking their heads and saying, “I guess there are still people who need to be told this stuff.”  This week, that’s BookCon.  BookCon is the new name for the power readers’ day on the final day of Book Expo America, the premier book industry gathering of the year in the U.S.  Every year, industry insiders, reviewers, bloggers and readers gather at BEA for a weekend of bookish awesome.  There’s even an “Armchair BEA” for those who can’t make it in person.  It’s a big deal and I’ve always wanted to go, until this year.

Last week or so, BookCon rolled out its lists of panelists and readers scratched their heads at the lineup of one of the most important panels – a kidlit and YA celebrity panel – made up entirely of white males.  The conversation began in smoky confusion.  “Um, guys?  This is the lineup?  This is the final lineup?  Uhhhh, but… Where are the women?  Where are the people of color?”  BookCon’s reaction – an apology-that-wasn’t-really-an-apology from its organizer, ReedPop, followed by a head-scratching decision not to change anything because people were still buying tickets (but what about all those people demanding refunds, BookCon?) added fuel, and now it’s a raging fire.  Within the last few days, BookCon extended an invitation to a female author of color to join as a panelist.  (They had previously invited her to moderate, with a list of pre-approved questions.  When she asked if she could be on the panel, they declined.)  Many considered the invitation too little, too late and pointed out (correctly, I think) that it smacks of tokenism.  It also puts the newly invited author in an untenable position.  Does she want to accept the invitation and enjoy the publicity, but at the price of being the token female and the token person of color?  Or does she want to reject it and take a stand, but lose out on the publicity for her work?  It’s a no-win situation, and completely unfair to her.

I’m not going to say more about the controversy, because BookRiot has already said it all so well.  (Check out this post for just one example of thoughtful criticism of BookCon’s errors in judgment.)

What I want to say, as a reader, and as a person unconnected with the book industry (except to the extent I fund them with my frequent trips to the neighborhood bookstore), is this: of all industries out there, I’d have expected better from the book industry.  I’d have expected this industry to be the most open, the most diverse, the most willing to listen to criticism.  Isn’t that what books are all about – to open our perspectives, to allow us to see the world through different eyes, to let us live as others do for a little while?  Isn’t an all-male, lily-white lineup of celebrities completely missing the point?

Diversity is important.  And it’s not just racial diversity that we demand.  We want to hear voices of women, voices of those born and raised in other states and other countries, voices of those from different backgrounds, different religions, different ages, different fields of study and work, different points of view.  We want all perspectives, and from a major event like BookCon, we don’t just want this.  We expect it.  There is no experience, no work, no discussion, that is not enriched by the addition of new and different voices, with new and different things to add.  That is reality.  We sort of thought you would know that, BookCon, but evidently you don’t.  Evidently, there are still people who need to be told about diversity.

So, let’s talk.

Have you been following the BookCon controversy?  What do you think?

*Don’t get me wrong.  I think there are plenty of people from other generations who value diversity and don’t need to be told that it’s a positive and important thing.  I’ve worked with plenty of them.  But my personal experience is as a member of Generation Y, so that’s the perspective from which I write this. I do think that Gen-Y, and much of X, were the first generations to come to their diversity values organically, by growing up thinking, “Well, obviously.”  But please feel free to disagree with me – let’s just all be respectful.

**Since this is one of the more controversial posts I’ve done, it warrants saying (and this might be obvious, too): this post represents my personal opinions and is not written on behalf of my employer (an organization I do not identify here, in any event, because this is a personal blog).  And this should go without saying, but just in case: no part of this post is intended as legal advice.

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Read Much? Not Much. Or, My First Readathon.

So, if you’re into the book blogging world, you’ve probably come across the readathon concept.  I’m a little fuzzy on the rules, but my basic understanding is that you set aside a day for reading as much as possible and neglecting your housework, and because hundreds of other people are all doing this as well and it’s organized with cheerleaders and everything, you get the privilege of calling it a readathon instead of just “Saturday.”

Anyway, I love the idea of reading all day – obviously, since I did plenty of that once upon a time, before children.  And I would love to read all day while people leave me encouraging notes, as if I need encouragement.  But for various reasons, I’d never joined in on a readathon before.  There was always something going on – either I was on vacation (and sightseeing, not a beach or lake vacation where a readathon would actually be practicable), or I had family commitments or a big race, or a tiny baby who needed too much of my attention.  I would follow jealously along on Twitter, kicking myself for not signing up at least to cheer.  And I always promised myself: someday.

Finally I decided: someday would be April 26, 2014, the date of the spring installment of Dewey’s 24 Hour Readathon.  It was, once again, not a great weekend for me.  I have a little kid who wants attention (and deserves attention, and is WAY too cute to ignore) and it was also the week before the Five Boro Bike Tour, so I had a couple of training rides to get in.  I knew there was no way I’d be able to put as much reading time in as I would have pre-baby, pre-hectic weekends.  But I decided I’d go for it anyway.

The first task in any readathon is to pick your books.  Here was my stack:

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The Mummy Case, by Elizabeth Peters; Bronte: Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets (poems by Emily Bronte – for National Poetry Month; I was slacking); Wigs on the Green, by Nancy Mitford; Henrietta’s War, by Joyce Dennys; William Shakespeare’s Star Wars: Verily, A New Hope, by Ian Doescher; The Pericles Commission, by Gary Corby.  Since I knew I wouldn’t actually be reading 24 hours, or anywhere close to it, I really didn’t think I’d get through all of these.  But this was my lineup of choices.

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Sometimes I’m not the brightest.  I didn’t exactly read the directions on the readathon site, and didn’t realize that there were different start times for each time zone.  I sort of thought the readathon started at midnight wherever you are, and ended at midnight the following night.  Actually, for my time zone, it went 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 a.m.  I started at 6:24 a.m.  Oopsie, then.

Anyway.  I decided to start with The Mummy Case, since I was 223 pages into it (out of 404) and wanted to finish.  I read steadily for almost two hours, then had to break off to feed Peanut her breakfast and get us both ready for Stroller Strides.  (It’s a part of the weekend that we both really enjoy, and we had missed the previous weekend and won’t be able to make it next weekend, so it took priority over the readathon.)  We got back from Stroller Strides around 11:30.  I gave Peanut lunch, put her down for her nap, and then got ready for what I hoped would be a ten mile bike ride.

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About two miles in, the hail started.  I had also made the unwise decision of wearing skimpy bike shorts, and it was in the 30s.  Since I couldn’t feel my legs, there were hailstones under my helmet, and the readathon clock was ticking, I gave up the ride as a bad job and headed back after only six miles.  (I had a thirty-five miler on the schedule for Sunday, so it wasn’t like this was my big training ride of the weekend.)

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Back home: lunch, and more Amelia Peabody.  I am loving these mysteries, but more about that coming in a future post.

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Done with book the first!  I decided to keep track of my time with this handy digital bookmark, and it tells me I’d been reading for 2 hours, 26 minutes at this point.  That’s already more than I thought I’d manage, so I was pretty pleased.

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Snacktime, and on to book the second.  As I mentioned, I’d been slacking on my plan to read through this volume of Emily Bronte’s poems for National Poetry Month, so I decided some forced reading time would get me back on track.  Time for a Bronte binge.

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Man, Emily Bronte is depressing.  More about this to come in a future post (on Friday!) but the woman had a serious fixation on the grave.  It was a good thing I had someone so cute to look at as I read.  Here we are enjoying an afternoon snack (Peanut) and a poem that, at first, seemed to be about something other than death, but of course ended up being depressing (me).

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Peanut also decided to get in on the readathon action.  She spent at least thirty minutes – more like an hour, I think, but I was in no place to count – sitting on the floor, “reading aloud” from her Mother Goose book.  Like mother, like daughter.

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Late afternoon, more readathon views.  I’m still reading depressing poetry, and so is Peanut.

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Eventually, it was time to break for dinner (pizza, which seems to be the official readathon dinner food, and wings, because Buffalo), and to give Peanut her bottle and stories and bedtime snuggles.  With her tucked cozily away upstairs, I returned to Bronte and finished around 8:30 or a little after.  Reading time: 4 hours, 40 minutes.

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With book the second finished, it was on to book the third.  I chose Henrietta’s War, because I was looking for something short and a bit lighter after an afternoon with the least cheery Bronte sister (and that is saying something), and because I’ve been meaning to read this one for a long time.  I also decided to eat Peanut’s Easter cookie from Grandma and Grandpa.  In my defense, I tried to cut it up for her, but my knife didn’t want to go through the royal icing.  In my further defense, I actually slipped and cut the inside of my mouth on this.  So I’m glad I didn’t feed it to Peanut.  But sorry anyway, Grandma and Grandpa.  It was delicious.

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Henrietta’s War was fantastic, and I loved it pretty much from page one.  But… I was getting pretty tired.

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I moved upstairs and took a short reading break to put sheets on the bed (laundry day).  Then I climbed in and curled up with Henrietta and Mrs. Savernack and Lady B and Faith and Colonel Simpkins for a bit longer.  Henrietta kept me laughing (what a wonderful pen-pal she’d make!) but eventually I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

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10:49 p.m. – Book closed, lights out, readathon done, at least for me.  6 hours and 28 minutes of reading is more than I expected to do, not as much as most of the readathon participants did, but good for a busy mom who wasn’t committed enough to make it 24 hours but wanted to play along, at least once.

Will I readathon again?  You betcha!  Dewey’s readathon was well organized, and I got lots of encouraging messages and “likes” on Instagram and Twitter all day from the cheerleaders.  There’s another one coming up in October, and I’d love to really commit and try to make it longer.  Unless it’s marathon weekend, in which case… well, maybe an audiobook.

Did you participate in the Dewey’s 24 Hour Readathon this weekend?  How’d you do?

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32 Things: Update 2

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I just had my unbirthday, which means (1) I’m halfway to 33 – ugh, this year is going by way too fast; and (2) it’s time for another 32 things update.  I feel like I just did one, but anyway.  Here we go again.

1.  First, a BIG one: Visit my BFF in Germany next summer (and maybe tack a week in Austria on there too).  I know this will be a challenge to pull off with a toddler, but we really want to try.  Hubby, R and I are all super excited.  Sadly, this isn’t going to happen this year.  We tried.  We looked for a good flight and just couldn’t find anything that wouldn’t be insanely tough on Peanut.  It’s a shame, because it’s probably the only time we would have had the chance to visit R on one of her overseas adventures – it seems like this may be the last one.  But it isn’t something we can do at our current stage of life, which is a pity.

2.  Write my grandmother at least once a month (I don’t expect replies, just want her to receive letters from me).  I have not been good about this AT ALL.  But I did knit her a cozy shawl and mail it to her with a letter, so that’s something.  I need to get on top of this ASAP, though.

3.  Visit Frank Lloyd Wright’s Greycliff.

4.  Run the 2013 Buffalo-Niagara YMCA Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day.  Such a fun race with my sisters-in-law!  Read my recap here.

5.  Read and blog about 20 classic books for The Classics Club.  Blogs posted for Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Anne of Windy Poplars, Anne’s House of Dreams, Anne of Ingleside, Rainbow Valley, Rilla of Ingleside, Jane Eyre, Middlemarch and Excellent Women.  I’m currently working on balancing reading time with my new hectic schedule since going back to work, and have mainly been reading quick, cozy mysteries.  But I have some plans to knock off a few more classics soon..

6.  Make refrigerator jam.

7.  Re-read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series.  I can’t believe it took me so long to re-read this series, which I loved as a little girl.  My thoughts on experiencing the Little House books as an adult are right here.

8.  Join a group at church.

9.  Road-trip to Ithaca for a weekend.

10.  Knit a dress for Peanut.

11.  Learn to play three new piano pieces.

12.  Go to see Shakespeare performed in Delaware Park.

13.  Have a date night with hubby at Rue Franklin.

14.  Knit through 1/4 of my yarn stash.  Working on this!  I’ve made infinity scarves for myself and my mom, a scarf for my grandmother, two “practice” hats for myself, a slouchy beret for my sister-in-law, a neck warmer, and I’ve got another infinity scarf on the needles now.  I’ve done it all using stash yarn and I’m working on emptying one of my Rubbermaid tubs of yarn before we move next.

15.  Write a guest blog.  I have some kind offers (thanks, friends!) and some ideas.  Hoping to draft up posts and send them to my pals soon.

16.  Take Peanut for a bike ride in one of those hilarious trailers.  I’ve had my bike tuned up (had to – it’d sat for about two years, and I had to get it back in shape before I started training for the Five Boro Bike Tour) and I think I’ve picked out a bike trailer to buy for Peanut.  I’ve also scouted out a few fun-looking bike trails.  Can’t wait to get out for some family bike rides this spring and summer.

17.  Finish Level I of the Rosetta Stone French course.

18.  Spend a few days (a week if I can swing it) with my high school BFF and our kids.

19.  Knit a lace beret.  Done!  I knitted up a slouchy eyelet beret for my sister-in-law.  She loved it.

20.  Go to a Sabres game!  (Ideally, I’d also like them to win.  C’mon guys, for me?)

21.  Overcome my fear of baking bread – a holdover from last year.

22.  Get in the habit of better skin care – another holdover from last year.  Working on this, too.  I’ve gotten into a pretty good moisturizing routine.  Next I’d like to make time to exfoliate once or twice every week.

23.  Volunteer with Literacy New York – Buffalo-Niagara.  I worked with a student for several months before I had to back out – my work schedule was too hectic, and my student seemed to be in a place in life where her schedule didn’t support tutoring either.  But I loved getting to know her and helping her a little bit along in her journey.  I hope that when I have some more spare time, I can go back to this program.

24.  Knit a cozy shawl for my grandmama.  Done.  I actually sent the shawl to my other grandmother, who I thought would get more use out of it.  She loved it and that made me smile big.

25.  Go see a movie in the theater.

26.  Read South Riding, by Winifred Holtby.

27.  Buy a Sabres hockey jersey for Peanut.  (She already has a Cornell jersey.)

28.  Learn the Tunisian crochet stitch and make myself a scarf.

29.  Do some charity knitting.  I’m thinking hats for preemies?

30.  Read a book by Umberto Eco.

31.  Try out five new hikes in WNY.  We checked out Tifft Nature Preserve and had a wonderful, snowy walk.  (Look for spring, summer and fall posts to come).  And I’m planning plenty more hikes.  My inlaws love hiking, and so do our friends Zan and Paul, so I think we’ll have no shortage of friends for the trail.

32.  Another BIG one: buy a house.  This is FINALLY in progress!  Now that I have a job, we have a budget.  We just met with our realtor for the first time and are starting the process of seeing houses.  I can’t wait to be settled in our own space again.

Not bad.  I’m trying.  Lots of the smaller, less-commitment items – like reading books by Umberto Eco and Winifred Holtby, and knitting for Peanut, and the like, haven’t happened.  But it’s all about trying.  I’m trying hard to make this the best year I can.  That’s all I can do!

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Easter 2014

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Hoppy (belated) Easter!  Hop was the word of the day this year because a holiday dedicated entirely to bunnies (or so Peanut thinks) is The. Limit.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Easter celebrations this year started on Saturday night, as we dyed our eggs.  I love having eggs dyed and I know it’s an easy thing to do, but I always get it into my head that it’s a huge hassle and mess and I dread it and procrastinate as long as possible.  It really wasn’t that bad.  A few rounds in the Paas cups and we had a nice little harvest.

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On Sunday morning, Peanut was up at her customary early hour, so we bundled her downstairs to check out her Easter basket.  The bunny had been by and had left her a Peter Rabbit-themed basket, complete with a set of melamine plates and cups, a stuffed Peter, a counting book with a Peter Rabbit finger puppet, and two of the Peter Rabbit books – The Tale of Peter Rabbit and The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies – in the new Warne editions.

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As I rather thought would be the case, the dishes were the biggest hit.  Peanut amused herself for a good twenty minutes with carrying two of the cups around the living room, offering drinks to her toys.

We fed Peanut a quick breakfast and then it was off to church.  We had barely arrived when we bumped into Grandpa, who was getting ready to sing with the rest of the choir.  We said a quick hello and then headed to the nursery to play until the Easter service began.

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Why yes, those are Jesus & the Apostles finger puppets.  No big deal.

The Cathedral is a beautiful space and the choir is fantastic, but I missed what felt like most of the service (hubby assures me I wasn’t gone as long as it felt) because we’d barely made it through the processional hymn when I realized that the increasingly antsy child sandwiched between us had a good reason for all her twitching.  Peanut and I rushed back to the nursery and it was off with her sweet Easter outfit and on with the romper we’d tossed in the diaper bag as backup.  Once Peanut was changed and her wet clothes were packed away, I decided everyone would be happier if she got the rest of her antsies out in the nursery.  So we hung out while Peanut played trucks and ate cookies with the other littles, then headed back upstairs just in time for communion.

Peanut passed out in the car on the way home, but we woke her up when we got there.  We arrived to find that Nana and Grandad had laid out a yummy, light brunch to tide us over until dinner.  Kielbasa (turkey for Peanut and me; pork for everyone else), horseradish, rye bread, sweet bread, pickles, eggs, and a butter lamb – yes, please.  Peanut worked off the brunch by pushing Peter Rabbit and Goodnight Moon Bunny around in her Easter present from Nana and Grandad: this hilarious stroller.

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After brunch, Peanut headed upstairs for a nap, Nana and Grandad went for a long walk, and I baked a carrot cake and prepped the veggies for dinner.  Halfway through Peanut’s nap, Grandpa arrived after finishing his long choir day and we settled in for some much-needed relaxation with a book (me) and beers (the men).

By 2:30, Peanut was up and chatting in her crib, so we found ourselves another cute spring dress and entertained ourselves with an egg hunt in the sunroom while dinner cooked.  Please excuse me for posting all of these pictures, but can you blame me?  Behold this cuteness:

 

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Dinner was served around 5:00 p.m.  We had roasted chickens, carrots and Brussels sprouts, and a Romaine salad with an herbed yogurt dressing.

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Dinner was delish, but all I could think about was what was coming next.

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Why yes, that is a carrot cake (Pioneer Woman’s recipe) with cream cheese frosting.  WHAT.  I need to make carrot cake more often.  It’s one of my favorites.  (Second only to Angel Food, and a very close second at that.)

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I think Peanut had a pretty fabulous Easter.  Come to think of it, so did we.  And the best part?  I think that would have to be the gorgeously warm, sunny day we enjoyed.  Is it really spring?  Is this interminable winter finally over?  That would be an Easter miracle, indeed.

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Happy Easter to all of my friends who celebrated yesterday!  I hope your day was as glorious as ours was.

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Poetry Friday: “Song By Julius Angora”

Emily Bronte
(Image Source)

Song by Julius Angora
by Emily Bronte

Awake! awake! how loud the stormy morning
Calls up to life the nations resting round;
Arise, Arise, is it the voice of mourning
That breaks our slumber with so wild a sound?

The voice of mourning? Listen to its pealing;
That shout of triumph drowns the sigh of woe;
Each tortured heart forgets its wonted feeling,
Each faded cheek resumes its long-lost glow –

Our souls are full of gladness, God has given
Our arms to victory, our foes to death;
The crimson ensign waves its sheet in heaven –
The sea-green Standard lies in dust beneath.

Patriots, no stain is on your country’s glory
Soldiers, preserve that glory bright and free
Let Almedore in peace, and battle gory,
Be still a nobler name for victory!

Happy (early) Easter, and happy National Poetry Month!  Reading anything springy?