Reading Crazy

It's Sunday night, and I'm holed up grading papers while my husband watches TV and my books languish on my night stand.  Of course after over two weeks of prednisone, it's probably safer for everyone concerned that I be kept under lock and key.  I was so keyed up yesterday that the smallest annoyance took on epic proportions, and sitting still and following an hour-long television program was impossible.  The good news is that today was the last of that hateful drug, and so tomorrow I should begin to come back down from my steroid mania.  I'm certain everyone in this house will be glad to see the back of Crazy Sarah.

It's going to be another hectic week, full of appointments and classes and general life maintenance.  Here's hoping that I don't crash from prednisone withdrawal as I have in the past, or the week could get a whole lot trickier.  After all the chaos from my illness, I'm constantly feeling a step or three behind, and I realized late Friday afternoon that I double-booked myself for tomorrow morning (doctor's appointment and Kiddo's preschool field trip.)  So now, I'm crossing my fingers that the rain nixes the field trip (they have an alternate date -- I'm not that terrible), so I can make it to my appointment.  Meanwhile, I feel more like a flake than I have since I was pregnant.  I'm still not sure what happened to that organized, no-nonsense, never procrastinating woman who used to live here.  I miss that chick sometimes.  Okay, all the time.

While I haven't been able to watch anything on tv more complicated than episodes of Bob's Burgers (which is AWESOME, by the way), I can, for some reason, read like a fiend while in the midst of my prednisone insanity.  It's so weird because you'd think that would be harder to do than watching television when your brain is on fast forward.  Nevertheless, I've been powering through my TBR list like a boss.  Recently finished:

The Buried Giant, Kazuo Ishiguro.  Not quite the fantasy revelation I'd seen in reviews, but okay.

The Paying Guests, Sarah Waters.  This made so many lists in 2014, but basically it was just a happy-ending lesbian love story/implausible crime novel -- and not that great of one at that.  it was kind of like if Jodi Picoult were British and wrote historical fiction.

Yes, Please, Amy Poehler.  This was entertaining.  If you like Tina Fey's Bossypants, you'll love this too.  The structure is pretty random, and I wasn't personally interested in most of the Parks and Rec stuff, but overall it was a good read.  Also, she and Fey are the only two memoir writers I've read who were like, "Hey, our parents were so great and supportive and wonderful."  It was kind of refreshing.

Currently in-progress:

All the Light We Cannot See, Anthony Doerr.  I'm only a few pages into this.  I tried to start it over a week ago, and then library books came in that needed to be read, so now I'm starting over.  But I like it so far -- even if it does have these little mini-chapters that I'm not completely sold on yet.

Searching for Sunday, Rachel Held Evans.  This one isn't even supposed to be out till Tuesday, but apparently Barnes & Noble stores across the country started shelving it on Friday night, so I swooped in and snagged a copy.  So so good thus far.  Beautiful writing about faith and doubt.  Plus I get to be one of the cook kids and read it before everybody else.

Next up in the queue are some used book store finds that are about as dissimilar as you can get:

Wild, Cheryl Strayed.  I've been listening to her Dear Sugar podcast.

Lady Chatterley's Lover, D.H. Lawrence. Because I've never read it.

House of Sand and Fog, Andre Dubus III.  It was $2.

Making Peace

I don't think of myself as a peaceful person.  A happy person?  A content person?  I try.  A kind person? I probably miss the mark on that more often than I care to admit.  But mostly, I am a seething mass of anxieties and frustrations, guilt and sometimes anger.  Maybe I'm not any more fraught with negative emotions than anybody else.  Nearly all of us put on a smooth, still mask in public to cover the roiling emotions within.  And yet, these days I keep feeling a call to peace.

I am an anxious person by nature.  I worry.  I analyze.  I replay humiliations on a loop in my head, hoping that repeated viewings will reduce the sting.  Not surprisingly, that doesn't work.  An orderly life filled with calm routine is my ideal, but these days it's unlikely to be my reality.  More often than not, my days are that's-not-the-right-foot-get-that-out-of-your-mouth-why-aren't-you-eating-a-few-more-papers-to-grade-just-let-me-read-one-more-book with no reasonable expectation of sanity.  So really, is a desire for peace so surprising?

In our house, peace has come to equal "quiet" and "alone."  Kiddo has learned that to allow Mommy to do something "in peace" means she makes herself scarce while I do something exciting like use the bathroom and scoop the litter box.  Peace is what the cat wants when he flees to the one room in the house where our giant dog can't hassle him.

Yes, please.

But peace is more than the absence of a thing.  No sound, no hurry, no distractions.  Peace isn't always something that waits for you in the quiet spaces.  Those little pockets of solitude in our days can be stressful and anxiety-inducing as we recite lists and obligations, mark down schedules and plan meals.  A few minutes of mindless television can turn into the least peaceful part of the day as a parade of horrors plays on the news, or a program or movie slips into familiar territories of violence, bigotry, and misogyny.

Sometimes we have to actively make peace.

I'm talking about more than turning off the TV and setting aside the to-do lists.  For me, so much about making peace in my life is about intentionally setting aside anger and remembering to what I am called.  My life is to be modeled after Jesus' life, and he was the ultimate peacemaker.  If Jesus had a car, his rear window and bumper wouldn't be crowded with stickers endorsing divisive partisan politics.  There wouldn't be a pithy endorsement of gun rights with a warning about what sort of weapon is protecting the vehicle.  He wouldn't be on social media rejoicing in the violent deaths of anyone, regardless of their histories or crimes. I believe he would weep just as much over the US, with its delusions of exceptionality, as he would over any conflict-riddled place on earth.  He would mourn the brokenness of this world, but he would still love the people in it.  And that love would cross lines of race, politics, sexual orientation, and religion.

Peace has been shadowing me for weeks.  Sunday's sermon? Peace.  Two beautiful books I recently read?  So much about peace.  This is about so much more than my nightly escape to a solitary bath and some one-on-one time with my Netflix subscription.  This is about that unconditional, unwavering love that makes everything else insignificant and small.  This is about living a lifestyle of peace.  Yes, even for that guy in the Mazda who couldn't wait in line like everybody else and cut me off at the exit to 385.  I've got to wish him peace as well.  And the people who post articles to social media that make my blood boil.  There is righteous anger, and there is just wanting to be right.  In scripture, Jesus' anger is laser-targeted and brief.  It's one short episode in a story full of love and peace.  He experienced righteous anger, but Jesus wasn't angry.  But I am.  A lot.

Such is the paradox of peace.  We live in a flawed and flailing world full of injustices that we must not blindly accept as "just the way things are."  And yet, in the midst of our shouting down evil, we must maintain our central message of love.  We are to be a peaceful people, uncorrupted by the violence and vitriol of the world.  It's a balancing act, one that doesn't always lend itself to peaceful feelings.  Even so, from the center of my hectic, messy life to yours, I wish you peace.

How to Stay Married Forever While Maintaining That Spark While Parenting and Balancing Your Work/Home Life While Reciting the Alphabet Backwards on One Foot.

Lately, I've been seeing another burst of marriage related posts/blog on Facebook.  Everyone, it seems, has the perfect advice on how to choose a mate, divorce-proof your marriage, and keep that spark while raising a herd of children, all full of absurd generalizations and ridiculously impractical tips.  Well, I've been married twice, the second time for 12+ years, and I think I'm a bit of a marriage expert.  Yes, I know all the ins and outs of being (and staying) married...to me.


Top Ten Things You Need to Know to Stay Married to ME:

#1 - Separate sinks.  I am an only child.  For my entire school career, no teacher ever wrote, "Plays well with others," on my report card.  And also, people are gross.  Husbands are no exception.  Spit on the mirror, water stains on the faucet, toothpaste in the sink.  Whether it be bathrooms on opposite ends of the apartment or dual sinks in the same master bath, this little bit of porcelain and pipe is all it takes to keep me happy in the bathroom.  That and don't ever use my towel.  Ever.

#2 - Separate sides of the bed.  Beds may be for more than sleeping, but once it's time to go to dreamland, you better not cross that invisible line that divides his from hers.  There is nothing that cools my ardor faster than your hot, hairy arm draped over my side.  And don't ever put your head on my pillow.  Just don't.

But if you ever bring home these pillowcases, I'm out.

#3 - Shoes and clothes live in the closet/drawers.  I cannot live in chaos.  And I'm not the maid.  If it's not on your body, it better be put away or in the hamper.  (And lest anyone feel too terribly sorry for my better half, it's worth nothing that I do ALL the laundry, including folding and putting the clean stuff away. So this is not a terrible burden I am demanding.)

#4 - There will be many books in the house.  And I will spend significant amounts of time reading them.  And I don't look kindly on people who come into the room where I am lost in a book and ask me if I'm reading.  I will answer said inquiries in the manner which they deserve.

#5 - Don't channel surf while I'm in the room.  Fortunately, our relatively recent decision to "cut the cord" has mostly eliminated this issue.  Though technically, I could probably write a whole blog post about the endless Netflix speed surfing that goes on in our house.

#6 - Separate TVs.  I'm all for togetherness and bonding over an episode of The Walking Dead and a bowl of popcorn (actually, I don't share bowls of popcorn well either), but there are times when I need to watch Downton Abbey without your mocking comments, or to have a 100th viewing of Bringing Up Baby.  In those times, I will retreat to the bedroom and indulge in this fine programming.  Husbands must not be offended, and in fact, are encouraged to use said free time to indulge in all the sports programming they can, as I also do not watch sports.

#7 - There will be cats.  Always.

Hopefully, these dueling kittens.

#8 - I don't do outdoors.  This applies to picnics, camping, hiking, and/or any other activity that might involve sweating, bugs, or peeing anywhere other than a bathroom.  If there are any questions on this item, just ask my husband about the picnic or the camping trip.  There was only one of each.

#9 - I love it when a plan comes together.  I'm not a fly-by-seat-of-my-pants kind of gal (in case this list didn't already make that clear.)  I like to know what to expect and make preparations accordingly. Having a child and adjusting to severe diet restrictions have not lessened this trait.  I need to know that there will be a (safe) place to eat and clean bathroom nearby.  Where I'll be sleeping and when also need to be established early on.  I'm super fun on trips.

#10 - I need my space.  The good news is that after you're good and sick of my all requirements, you can simmer in solitude because I like to be alone.  A lot.  I may love you with every fiber of my being, but those fibers needs a little breathing room on a daily basis or they get cranky.  I hate cranky fibers.

[Get Out of My] Cabin Fever

I officially have "Get Out of My Cabin" Fever.  This particular illness differs from the more traditional, Cabin Fever, in that it requires every else in the house to leave and enjoy the outside world, whilst I remain home in my cozy nest, alone.  Except for the dog.  He can stay.

He's the strong, silent type.

We've been hit hard the past two weeks.  First there was the scourge of mothers everywhere....head lice.  There was treating and combing and laundry.  Lots of laundry.  And then there was more treating and more combing and more laundry.  If you see a kid at preschool running around in a swimming cap, that's going to be my kid.  We are NOT risking this madness again.  Also, I had to go three days without washing my hair or using any kind of hair product.  Yeah, there won't be any pictures of that.  Or maybe that's not really a photo of Sam above.  Needless to say, there has been quite a bit of homebound time during the Lice Debacle of 2015.

Everything but the Xanax

And then, just when I thought we couldn't have any more togetherness, there was the ice storm.  And no, it was nothing like the movie.  Here in the South, the world shuts down whenever any sort of frozen precipitation falls from the heavens, so we've been home now for three days with no preschool (Presidents' Day was thrown in just for fun.)  I have taken to hiding in the back of the house as soon as my husband gets home and takes over as Chief Question Answerer/Admirer/Edifier/Entertainer.  We say things like, "Mommy is taking a bath," which is code for, "Don't bother Mommy while she watches Star Trek:Voyager in peace."

Lest I sound like the biggest villain since whoever cancelled Arrested Development, allow to me clarify that we did celebrate Valentine's Day as best we could as a family, and I made pancakes with Kiddo this morning just because.  I also allowed my husband to join me in the back of the house to watch the mid-season premiere of The Walking Dead (yes, we're an episode behind.)  So I have my moments of soft-heartedness.  Only moments though.

Back to zombies, however.  What is the deal with the second halves of seasons on this show?  Last year we had to wade through at least six episodes of the separated group whining, I mean, wandering through the woods and a whole lot of not much else.  The first half of the current season was action-packed and ended with a BANG (literally.)  And now, here we are again in the Slough of Despair, directionless, whiny, and killing off one of the only currently interesting characters.  I am so sick of Conflicted Rick with his Furrowed Brow, and now it seems (at least as far as the mid-season premiere went) that he has passed this disease on to the perpetually hopeful Glenn.  Anyway, fingers crossed that the second episode is better tonight.  Also, on a side note, there is a special place reserved in hell for people who post spoilers on Facebook.  Ever heard of a DVR?  Or a ROKU?  Official Facebook pages for shows, this goes for you too!  (You'll notice that I was VERY careful to word my complaints about the show in very non-specific language above.)

While I'm in such a sunny mood, I'll also post a mini-review of Lena Dunham's Not That Kind of Girl, which finally came in on my reserve at the library.  (There were something like thirty people ahead of me.  This is not hyperbole.)  I added my name to the list, pretty much as soon as it came out -- you know, somewhere between the release announcement and the shitstorm of accusations that followed.  I've seen Dunham called all kinds of unrepeatable things -- not the least of which were that she was a child predator -- online and in print by a whole herd of angry people.  So when the title finally came in to my little library with my name on it, my excitement was tinged with curiosity from reading so much negative press.  I read the book in two days, so obviously, it was entertaining.  Reading this book convinced me of two things: #1 - Lena Dunham is awesomeamazingsupercoolsmartfunnycleverkindredspirit.  #2 - All those KneeJerks (as I am henceforth dubbing them) didn't actually read the book.  Now there's a shock.  

So what is their (the KneeJerks) problem with Lena Dunham?  Is it really that she was curious about what the human body looked like when she was very little?  Is it the fact that she talks about what she actually thought and felt as a young person in a completely honest, open, and straightforward way?  Or is that she is a woman who is comfortable in her own skin, at ease with own thoughts, and unapologetic about her personality and temperament? Perhaps if she showed some sort of shame about her not-so-Hollywood body they could forgive her being smart, funny, and a woman.  I am so over the dismissal of powerful women as bitches or perverts, as if being a woman in charge is somehow unnatural. 

Ok, I'm getting riled up, and this isn't the day to risk that.  So we'll move on.  Before we do, though, on a semi-related note, here's a link to a great Salon article on the power of female nudity. Do yourself a favor and read it with an open mind.

Well, Kiddo has had all the alone time she can muster, and there is a little face at my door every couple of minutes now with some manufactured reason why I need to be interrupted.  And I just used the words "unless you're on fire or dying" in a sentence to her, so yeah, I'd better go.  Plus, there are still papers to grade (only five, so that's not too bad.)  Tomorrow it's back to school.  FOR EVERYONE!

Books, Bugs, and a Busted Weekend

Greetings on a Wednesday, aka the first time this week I've had any one-on-one time with my MacBook in a week.  Life has been hairy the past week or two, and I am ready for a breather that's probably not on the horizon.  I've really been feeling the mommy squeeze lately.  Apparently, Kiddo's fifth birthday flipped some sort of I-need-your-undivided-attention-ever-waking-moment switch that has left me feeling frayed and frazzled, and I've lost some of my downtime/writing time to my class schedule (not that I'm complaining about teaching, but more about that later.)  So the weekend was looking promising with a church-planned Daddy-Daughter Dance on Friday evening, a lie-in on Saturday morning, and drinks and books with my best friend on Saturday night.  The solitude and adult companionship was soothing, but I was still feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated come Sunday morning.  A quiet morning alone was required if my sanity was to remain intact, and my husband was very accommodating, not returning from church and lunch and shopping until late, but any ground I might have gained in the sanity department was about to slip away come evening.

We are officially the scourge of preschool.  Kiddo got lice somewhere, and we discovered this lovely fact Sunday night.  Cue hours of frantic cleaning, laundry, treating, and combing.  Somehow, my husband and I managed to avoid the infestation, but Kiddo was not so lucky.  She's been a trooper through all the bad smelling shampoo and hours of combing, but I am so totally over the whole drama.  I did somewhere between eight and ten loads of laundry in twenty-four hours, all while still running the household, making meals, and helping Kiddo handmake fifteen Valentine's for her preschool party.  I am so over being Mommy at this point that after one too many pokes and prods and tugs Monday afternoon, something snapped and I actually said, "Stop touching me!"  Of course, Kiddo thought this was hilarious and a game of Poke Mommy ensued.

Okay, not really, but it felt good to say it.

Not all is bleak and buggy, however.  I am now halfway through week two of my Comp 101 class, and it is going so well.  I have eighteen wonderfully smart and engaged students that make me happy every class period.  Their first outlines were due yesterday, and I was so pleased with their work that I feel nothing but anticipation for reading their first papers (due tomorrow.)  I imagine this enthusiasm will flag a few papers in as nobody WANTS to grade eighteen freshman comp essays, but nevertheless I remain optimistic and grateful for such a respectful, well-prepared class.

Gold stars for everyone! (Except you.)

All of this drama and hard work has seriously cut into my reading time.  I'm still only, like 300 pages into 1Q84 despite it being an amazing read.  I did, however, manage to finish A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master.  (As a library book, it got priority.  It's .20 a DAY now for late charges. Yikes.)  I really, really loved this book.  I recommend this book.  Read this book.

Rachel Held Evans writes books about faith and doubts and women and equality and all those things I find so important and interesting and some other "i" words that I haven't thought of yet.  She does write from a progressive perspective, so don't go into her work expecting Donna-Reed-Joins-the-Women's-Ministry.  I love what she has to say about so many things (here's her blog) but I have to admit that after reading the introduction to this book, I was a little skeptical.  Sure I agree with what she has say and how she views women and their roles in the Church, but that doesn't mean I want to read an entire book mocking the beliefs of more conservative women.  The idea of someone outside of the evangelical tradition (though she grew up in it) participating in all of kinds of ultra-conservative practices and roles seemed problematic at best, and cruel and mean-spirited at its worst. Yet, she somehow manages to avoid having any of those issues.  She honestly and openly explores fundamentalist (and even some Orthodox Jewish, Mormon, and Catholic) definitions of "Biblical Womanhood" and spent a year trying to live these different principles, whether she agreed with them or not.

Honestly, I'm not sure how she managed to write about calling her husband, "Master," or refusing speaking engagements, or many of the other things she tried while still managing a mostly neutral (and definitely respectful) tone.  The book was definitely funny as she attempts things like cooking her way through a Martha Stewart cookbook and making her own clothes, but her humor is always self-directed.  With the exception of the cooking, she's just so bad at most of the things she tries.  Her self-deprecating tone lightens what would otherwise be a very serious book.  (If you are a fan of Half the Sky -- the book or the film series -- this book is for you, as well.)  Women are suffering.  Women are being told they are second-class citizens.  Women are being kept out of positions of leadership in the church and undervalued.  Women are being abused and killed and sold.  But throughout the book, Evans just keeps emphasizing that women are not the problem.  Women are the solution.  How can you not love that?  

So, overall, I'd put this title right up there with my favorite, Jesus Feminist.  Okay, Jesus Feminist is still my favorite, but this one is a close second.  Now, I just have to find copies of some of Evans' other books as our library system only has this one book.  In the county-wide whole system.  Don't get me started.

Here's hoping this week calms down and gets better (and quieter.)  I've managed to get caught up on my Downton episodes (I was two behind), and we watched the new The Walking Dead last night, so I should be free to read my little heart out tonight after Kiddo goes down.  Tomorrow is going to be a big day, so I must rest up for the sugar-induced frenzy that Kiddo will be in when I pick her up from her Valentine's Day party at preschool in the afternoon.  But for now, my dryer has beeped, which means Kiddo's sheets are clean and ready to be put back on her bed (again.)  After that it's on to lesson plans, errands, and just being mom.  If you need me, just DON'T.

Obsess Much?

Have I mentioned that I am a nerd?  Not in a Oh-My-Gosh-I'm-Such-A-Dork-Because-I-Once-Watched-an-Episode-of-Buffy kind of way.  I am a full-on socially inept obsessive.  I get way too excited when somebody brings up something I feel passionate about (Battlestar Galactica, anyone?) and talk way too fast and morph into this slightly scary fangirl that frightens away whoever brought up the topic.  Fortunately, I had the foresight to marry an even bigger nerd, so my crazy rants about my recent "Rewatch Every Episode of Star Trek: Voyager" project don't even faze him.  Heaven help our five year old.  She doesn't stand a chance at a normal life.  She's already adopted her daddy's recent fixation on Guardians of the Galaxy (I mean, do you know another five year old who's #1 party trick is doing the Baby Groot dance?) and is well on her way to becoming another compulsive reader like her mother. 

Sorry, Internet, this is NOT a nerd.

Like every good, self-respecting nerd I take everything I love in big, obsessive doses that leave me good for nothing much beyond more of the same.  So I thought in today's post I would spend a little time sharing my current obsessions, and if they overlap with any of your personal manias, let me know!

Last night I spent a good portion of the evening bingeing (I just spent an embarrassing amount of time researching the correct way to write this word) on YouTube videos, a pastime I share with my husband -- even if our tastes in videos differ a bit.  We both enjoy Russell Brand's The Trews (short for "True News.")  If you like irreverent political and social commentary, check it out.  As for my personal YouTube favorites, there are always lots of good videos to watch on Geek & Sundry's channel.  Another favorite of mine is Stuff Mom Never Told You, which is a fun web show that delivers exactly what the title says, quick lessons on everything from "How to Wrap a Present" to "Why Do We Kiss Under Mistletoe?"  The woman who hosts is hilarious and smart, and I love to waste a few hours watching her explain absolutely everything.

But last night my Roku YouTube app was cranking out the Book Riot videos.  In particular, I binged on the videos that featured Amanda Nelson, managing editor at Book Riot.  Her videos are thoughtful and funny and very smart.  I lost track of how many I watched last night, but I will recommend her videos on difficult to pronounce author names, finding good Christian non-fiction, and reading outside your comfort zone.  If you're a compulsive reader like me or even just a little bookish, check out the Book Riot channel on YouTube.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I am currently on a Murakami bender, so reading 1Q84 is my current reading project.  I am, however, really excited to swing by the library on the way home today to pick up my two current reserves.  The first is a book that I've already read but want to skim again (somebody just buy me this book already), Jesus Feminist, by Sarah Bessey.  I'm hoping I find things I missed on the first reading and have more time to spend on the associated scriptures and such.  The second title that has come in at my local library is Rachel Held Evans' A Year of Biblical Womanhood.  I'm really excited about checking out this book (see what I did there?) as I have heard a lot of good things about it.  Will let you know what I think very soon.  

Let's see what's left for this post?  So little time and space and so many obsessions.  I supposed I'll wrap things up with what's playing on my tv (and movie) screens.  Last year I discovered the British (of course) show, The Bletchley Circle, a historical mystery/drama about a group of woman who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII decoding encrypted messages from the Nazis and helping the Allies to victory.  After the war ended, these women were sworn to secrecy (upon threat of treason charges) and left to return to quiet lives as underestimated wives and mothers, so of course, they must solve crimes.  I'm always a sucker for stories about smart women, so this show is right up my alley and a definite must-watch for fans of suspenseful stories full of code-breaking and mystery solving.  

I've been dying to see The Imitation Game, not only because of the Bletchley Park connection, but also because of the great and wonderful and amazing and...oops, I'm gushing, Benedict Cumberbatch.  Finally got to see this Oscar contender over the weekend with my best friend (my husband was stuck seeing Paddington with Kiddo), and it definitely lived up to the hype.  (The Imitation Game, I mean.  Can't speak for Paddington, though admittedly, Kiddo dubbed it "AH-mazing.")  Cumberbatch did not disappoint, and Knightley's performance was, arguably, the most nuanced of her career.  There were lots of puzzles and code-breaking and people (women included) being smart, and aside from the repetition of one overly pithy and precious catchphrase (think Spiderman's great power/great responsibility chestnut), it was beautifully written and well-paced.  The acting was superb across the board, and the film's handling of Turing's conviction and persecution for his sexual orientation was respectful and powerful.  So that's my commercial for that.  Go see it.

Well, I've once again clicked away an hour at BN cafe, and there is still much work to be done (class starts tomorrow) and hot chocolate to be drunk.  Must dash!