Quodlibets

Reading Notes

Between November 13, 2005 and November 12, 2006, I read 203 books.  Though that is fewer books than the previous year's total (243), I also worked a full time job for approximately 90% of that year-long period.   It must be said that a portion of those books listed as read were listened to in my car (that number, whatever it is, is a 100% increase over last year, when I listened to no audiobooks), and I'd give you the exact number of those, but I don't have my list in front of me. 

I think that 446 books in two years is a good number, and even if some of those books were romance novels and YA novels--two kinds of book I fly through--many were not.  I read some heavy non-fiction this year, since I'm working in close proximity to such books every day.  I also listened to one non-fiction book, A Crack in the Edge of the World, by Simon Winchester.  I found that one very hard going, and will probably never listen to another non-fiction audiobook again.  I suspect that they're easier in print because of the visual aids that come with them, as sad as that is to say.  I just could not visualize the earth's movements as spoken out loud, so I was pretty much confused for at least the first half of that book.  I'll be sticking to fiction from now on in my listening.  Much easier to keep track of and drive during.

In this last week of reading, I thought I would have to cram some easy books in to reach my goal of 200 books in the year, but I hit 200 on Monday or Tuesday, so I read something a little more involved, a book called The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million.  If you can't guess, that book was about the Holocaust, and specifically one man's search not for six survivors, but for the history of six of his relatives who died.  This journey that he recounts starts with very little information--the wrong names even of the four girls who would have been his mother's cousins--and ends with him in the house that his Great-Uncle and his daughter, Frydka, hid in and were ultimately betrayed from.  Quite moving, and very different.  It was the first Holocaust book I've read in a long time, and like I said, very different from most stories, which tend to be survival stories.

Technically, I did read half of a book yesterday, though in my sickness and tiredness, I couldn't quite finish it to end at 204.  That book, called Farthing, is also about the WWII time period, but it's an alternate history/mystery set in the England that would have existed if the English of the time had agreed to a peace with Hitler that kept him on the Continent and the British free.  It supposes that the world is more virulently anti-Semitic in the 40's than it might actually have been, and like another recent book (and one I listened to within this last year's time period), The Plot Against America, it posits that Charles Lindbergh might have been able to become president of the US.  Though Farthing never really deals in depth (or hasn't yet) with that situation, because it's set in England.   I love alternate history, and historical mysteries, so this is right up my alley, and I'm enjoying it very much.

So is that 203.5 books or 203 even?  Either way, I'm very happy with the reading I've done, and will try to be on pace to at least equal that number of books in the next reading year, November 13, 2006 to November 12, 2007.

Brain not working

I was sick yesterday, but today is worse.  I think I was just holding it together so I'd be okay for the party, but in doing so, overtaxed my body.  So now I feel like shit, and I can't quite think straight.  There'll be nothing intellectual today, thanks.

The party went well.  The Tuna Tartare relish/salsa was a huge hit.  There wasn't even a bite of it left.  It wasn't quite tartare, in that the tuna was seared, but that's the name the recipe site gave the thing, so that's the name I've been using.  It involved avocado, lime juice, olive oil, onion, jalapeno and the seared tuna, cut into chunks.  The recipe called for fresh cilantro and oregano, but I stayed away from those things, thinking (rightly, I think) that it would be too much, and that the tuna didn't need it.  I served it with tortilla chips, and like I said, there wasn't a bite left at the end of the night.  Very exciting.  The baked brie was also a hit, and I highly recommend it.  So easy--take a tube of crescent rolls, wrap around a round of brie (we used WF holiday brie, and it was fantastic) and bake at 350 for 25 minutes.  Delish.  Somehow better than uncooked brie.

I think that's as far as I can go tonight.  My head hurts, my sinuses are screaming, and my throat is raw.  That's pretty much all I can think about now.  (I slept 10 hours last night, and still fell asleep on the couch this afternoon.  Body tired.)

I'm a big kid now

Tonight, I'm having a grown-up dinner party.  Sort of.  There aren't going to be linens and chargers and so on, because I'm having six people and there are only four chairs, so we're doing living room eating.  And anyway, I don't have linens and chargers.

But I am cooking things I've never cooked before.  Appetizery things like Chimichurri toasts and tuna tartare salsa and baked brie.  And not only are those appetizery things, but they're grown-up things too.  Of course, as I told one of the invitees, it could all be crap, and we could end up ordering pizza.  It doesn't help that I have a cold and so can't taste anything.  I'm a very taste oriented cook.  I like to taste and season, and unfortunately, that's not going to work today.  I had sausage pizza for lunch (leftovers) and I couldn't taste the sausage so much as feel the texture in my mouth.  It's not good when Italian sausage has more texture than flavor.  And the failing is definitely my tastebuds, and not the sausage.

The invitees are high-school friends and significant others, which is going to make for a VERY interesting evening.  We had dinner at one of the couple's place a few months ago, and I wanted to reciprocate, which is how the whole thing came about.  And then I thought, what the hell.  If I'm cooking, I may as well invite the other couple, so that I don't have to cook twice.   The recipes are actually frightfully easy, which is worrying, because I feel like good things should be more complicated.  But like it said, it could all be crap, which would suck but would probably be funny.

Needless to say, S isn't very happy about the whole thing, because it means he has to clean and be nice and mingle and talk to people that he doesn't know very well.  And eat foo-foo food.  Although to be fair, I am having an antipasto tray just. for. him.  I expect that he will stake out the tray and grab a handful of prosciutto and be happy.  I hope that's what happens.  Maybe an update later, maybe not.  Depends on whether this is a rousing success or a stunning failure, I guess.

Not so wonderful

My sister wrote a post recently about getting fitted for bras at this store called Intimacy, and how cool it was, and how now she's wearing the right size bra.  I was positive about the experience at first too, but now I'm not so happy with it.  A LOT of money was spent on these new bras, ok?  And they don't fit.  Sure, they fit okay in the fitting room.  They seemed okay in that little bubble.

But in the real world, no.  They dig in so tight that I have to unsnap them the minute I get in my car after work.  I mean, they are TIGHT.  I thought I needed tighter bras, for more support.  But I refuse to be miserable in my bras.  I don't think this store would want me to be this miserable.  And it's not only that.  The bra straps slide down constantly.  I can't make the straps any tighter, either, because they're already pinching badly under my arms, near my armpits.  And on one of the bras, the wires dig so painfully into my cleavage that I literally had to stick something in between my body and the bra, to stop the pain.

How did this happen?  As I said, they felt fine in the dressing room.  But in many years of bra-wearing (and clothes wearing, for that matter), I've come to realize that what works in a dressing room doesn't always work for a long day at work.  And maybe I was so excited and wowed by the bras themselves that I just didn't think hard enough.  Or feel hard enough.  I'm not sure.  (The bras themselves are beautiful.)  I do know that these bras felt great when I tried them on.  That's all I can say.  I don't know what I was thinking.  I just wanted to believe that these people knew what they were doing, but I don't think they did.  I guess I wanted them to be right.  I wanted to be dazzled.  And I was.

And now I'm out lots and lots of money, with no way to get it back.  I'm so mad at myself I could cry.  I don't even know what I should do.  The tags are off.  Will the store take them back?  I can't wear them.  Arggggh.  Anyway.  That's my boring post for today.

Would you rather hear about what I'm having for lunch?

Maggie Mason's book came in the mail the other day, so I thought I'd take a page out of it, and take one of her suggestions.  It's number 47.  Promote Truth.  Here are my universal truths.

1.  People will break your heart.  Sometimes little, sometimes big, and sometimes in the best way possible.  But they'll do it, and they'll do it.  And you'll let them, because you have no choice.  You can't be loved without loving, and you can't do either without having your heart broken.  I can't see any way around this one.  I haven't yet figured out how to love without having your heard broken.

2.  Baby animals are cute.  Seriously, even the ugliest ones are darling.  It's frivolous, it's true, but it'll never not be true.  Baby animals will always be cute.

3.  You should always take what is freely given, with gratitude.  I hate people who protest gifts, saying things like, "No, I shouldn't" or "No, I couldn't".  It's obnoxious.  When something is offered, it's better to say "Thank You.  I sincerely appreciate this." and leave it at that.  No matter your misgivings.  It's in poor taste to rebuff the generosity of a giver.  I am not sure I can conceive of a situation in which you should turn down a gift, unless, as I said above, it's not freely given.

4.  There are too many books.  I have a friend who always says if publishing ceased right at this moment, there would still be too many books, and I know exactly what she is saying.  Why, just this morning I went to the public library across the street from my work and checked six books out, which is on top of the 10 I have from my workplace, and the bookshelf double-shelved full of unread books.  Perhaps it's an addiction, but I'm never going to be able to shake the feeling that I just don't have enough time to read everything I want to read.  In some ways, it's the bane of my existence, and in others, it's incredibly nice to have such an embarrassement of riches.

5.  Carry an umbrella.  Seriously.  Even if it's just in your car.

6.  You should never second-guess the people you love the most.  What those people need from you, most of all, is support.  It's okay to wonder in private, and it's okay to ask other people to discourage and question and ask, but it's never okay to do so yourself.  Your job is to love that person, and no one appreciates such questions from someone they love so much.  I'll be honest, this is very hard to do.  It's very hard to support someone you think is making a bad choice.  But it's simply necessity.  I think I've come to realize that over the course of friendships, watching people make bad choices, and trying to stop them, or not, and realizing that you can't.  You can't save someone, and you can't stop them.  And if it gets to be too much, you might just have to step back.  But you can't make it end.  That, above all.

That's all I can think of right now.  Maybe I'll think of something else and put it here, but right now, I'm going to stop.

(Santa Fe Rice and Beans--Lean Cuisine--and strawberry jello.)

Her name is Barbra

Last night, I went to see Barbra Streisand with my mom and sister.  I'd be lying if I said I did it just for my mom, because I've always liked Barbra and harbored a strange fascination with her.  I'm pretty sure I read the book that this post is named after, and I have seen most of her musicals, even the bad ones.  (In fact, being at the show last night made me nostalgic to see Barbra movies, like Funny Girl and Yentl.)  I can't lie.  I really like her, and I really liked the show last night.  It's true that her voice is no longer what it was.  She seemed to be getting hoarse by the end of the show.  But there are still notes she can hit, and I'll be damned if she didn't make most of those songs last night sound great, even if her voice was a bit weak.

There were some bad things.  Il Divo, for instance.  I could have done without the addition of them.  They didn't really add anything to the songs they joined Barbra for, and in one case ("Somewhere") they actively ruined a very good song.  And the three songs they did without Barbra were the worst part of the night, the most boring, loud, operatic shit I can concieve of.  Way to go, Simon Cowell, for unleashing this crap on the world.  Secondly, we didn't get to see the much talked about Bush skit, because the impersonator had a pre-standing date for election day.  Which I understand, but to be honest, I was looking forward to it.  I'm sure it was lame, but I really wanted to see what the fuss was about. 

Otherwise, it was pretty frigging good.  Barbra even mentioned Sweet Mandy B's; I'm sure she didn't really eat a cupcake there, but it's somehow charming that she really set out to seem like she knew this city.  I'm sure some people found it fake, but what can I say?  I really wanted to like her, and this worked.  She sang hits--"Funny Girl" and "Don't Rain on my Parade", "Evergreen" and of course, "The Way We Were."  I didn't expect it, but that song was one of those ones that you can't help but thrill to be hearing.  It's HER song.  It's spectacular and heartbreaking when she sings it, and it automatically brings you back to the movie, specifically to the last scene.  All I could think was, "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell."  And of course, because I'm a SatC fanatic, I kept thinking of that scene from the show, when Carrie tells Big, "Your girl is lovely." and he says, "I don't get it."  And she replies, "And you never did."  Possibly the best scene from that show, and it's a pure homage to TWWW.  I don't know.  Hearing that song was fantastic.  I'd go again just to hear that.

Was it worth the money?  (In the interest of full disclosure, I did not pay for my ticket.  But I have to say that I think I would have, if my mom hadn't wanted to go.)  I think so.  I sure hope my mom thinks so.  She's a legend, and it's always interesting to be in the room with a legend.

(Funny story:  We kept hoping she would announce election results, especially the Duckworth-Roskam race.  Every time she talked a little bit about politics, we'd look at each other like, ooooh, maybe she'll say it now.  Of course, now we can see why she didn't, because in the words of my sister:  "You pissheads in the 6th voted Roskam in."  Anyway.)

10 Disappointing Moments of my Childhood (or 7)

I saw this meme somewhere during my whirlwind tour of NaBloPoMo blogs, and I can't remember where.  So if you are the originator of the meme, I am sorry that I did not link to you. 

Anyway, here are the ten most disappointing moments of my childhood:

1.  Getting my period.  No, seriously.  That and realizing you have to wear a bra.  Because I'm sure that I understood that these things meant that you weren't really a child, and anyway, they were a pain in the ass to deal with from the very start.

2.  I'm not mean, I swear, but number two has to be the news of my brother's impending residency on this planet.  I was seven or eight, and I don't remember much about it except crying, lots and lots of crying.  I can't specifically remember why I didn't want another baby in the family except that I just didn't think it seemed like a great idea.  It might have had something to do with the loss of the playroom, but I also can't be certain about that.

3.  When I started CCD at the local Catholic Church and became convinced I was going to hell.  That really sucked a lot.  I thought that because the catechism teaches kids (or it did when I was little, anyway) that not going to church every week is a mortal sin.  My family didn't even go to church on holidays, okay?  We were going to be roasting the minute our little souls departed this world.  I was terrified, and I'm not sure I'm remembering correctly, but I'm thinking I made some sort of effort to get my family to go to church every week, because I really didn't relish the idea of hell.

4.  When the cat went ballistic on me.  I think it was mostly disappointing to me as a five-year-old because I had to get a shot.  In the ass.  I don't remember being very fond of that.  And of course, Smokey went away then and never came back.  Oddly enough, I don't remember feeling sad about that, and I don't remember being in pain at all.  The whole thing is sort of bewildering to me now, because I really only remember hating the shot.  Of all the things to hate about the incident, it was the shot.

5.  The abrupt cessation of my best-friendship with EH.  I don't know when it happened (fifth grade?  fourth?) and I still don't precisely know why it happened.  I know that her dad used to be best friends with mine, then they weren't, and then we weren't.  As an adult, I know the basic causes of the rupture between the two men, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why I stopped seeing EH, even as an adult.  (I did briefly renew that friendship, after she sent me a letter, but then her second letter tried to "save" me through Jesus Christ, and that was the end of that.  I was already dealing with that whole problem daily in high school, and I didn't need to deal with it in person and by correspondence.  That's another story though.)

6.  Dropping the pizza on the Super Bowl banner.  In 1985, when the Bears went to the Super Bowl, my mom and dad had a party.  I was in charge of coloring the banner (well, Kate and I were), and somewhere along the way, I dropped a greasy piece of pizza, cheese-side down, onto the banner.  Boy oh boy, did that bother me. 

7.  When Katie's balloon popped.  We may have been over this before, so here's the short-hand:  Vacation Bible school.  Balloon animals.  Baby-sitter.  Her balloon pops.  Mano sad.  I just felt so sad, so unbelievably sad that I had something that Kate didn't.  Kate couldn't show the balloon to mom and dad when they came back from wherever they were, and I wanted to make it all better for her.  Incidentally, this is a story I tell all the time, and in some small way, it must still represent how I feel about Kate.  This is also the story I plan to tell as her maid of honor, if she has me.  (Right about now, Kate is rolling her eyes.)

Seriously, I can't think of any more.  I don't know if I just have a bad memory, or if my childhood was so happy that I was never disappointed, or what.  I can think of forty million things that have been disappointing in adulthood.  But no more childhood disappointments.  I can think of something that should have been disappointing, but somehow wasn't, and that was the great cake debacle.  My sister climbed onto a chair and started eating frosting off of the amazing 3-D CareBear cake my mom had made.  I'm sure you've all heard this story too.  But I don't remember being upset, I just remember my mom being upset.  No one died when I was a kid, no one had major surgery or got majorly hurt, my family was intact, I don't remember feeling let down by the elimination of Santa, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy (after all, we kept that charade alive for a long time after I knew because of my little brother), and I just don't remember feeling all that let down.  About anything.

Maybe I've blocked the bad memories.  Maybe I'm looking at things through rose-colored glasses.  Kate, you got anything?

Something to Start Out Your Day Well

Here's something fun:  This morning, on the way to work, two GIANT rats ran across the street I live on.  In the half-light of an early morning sunrise, no less.  These rats were not just running across the street in the dark, certain no one could see them.  No, these were brazen rats, willing to risk imminent car death or sight by human.  They were running in opposite directions, one across the street into the park, and the other towards all the apartment buildings, which is sort of sickening to think about.  I hope the wolves at the LP Zoo eat those rats. 

It's not like I didn't know that there were rats in big cities, because before I moved downtown, I saw those ugly rat warning posters around my sister's apartment building (you enter her building sort of off an alley, which makes the rat thing all the more understandable.).  I don't know if you've ever seen one of those Chicago rat posters (I looked for an image online, but couldn't find one), but those yellow posters make rats look like evil man-eating rodents.  Like those giant rats in The Princess Bride.   Really, the rats in those posters look like if you walk into one of their zones, they'll start gnawing at your ankles the minute you come near. 

But I'd never really seen a rat, prior to this.  I think we may have seen one from the bus once, but we weren't sure, and I certainly didn't get a good look at it.   And before that, definitely nothing.  And it's not like today's sighting was so horrible.  I was safe in my car, and those rats were just running in front of it.  I've never had an up close and personal encounter with a rat, and I'm pretty grateful for that.  It's possible that rats might take up residence in my garage, I guess.  It's not the most hospitable place, and the condo association seems to do a pretty good job with the pest control of all kinds, so most likely no rat infestation.  And since I don't exit out of or enter into an alley to get into my garage, my contact with los ratones is probably going to be limited anyway.

But still.  Yick.  I don't need to see anymore rats running in the direction of my apartment building.

S-U-C-K-S

Well.  First Bears game ever, first Bears loss this season.  Thoroughly depressing, especially because the Miami fans behind us were so freaking obnoxious. 

I don't even know what else to say about the whole debacle, except that it really sucks to watch fumbles and interceptions.  It's not fun.

Clearly, my mom and I are bad luck for the team.  Clearly, I should never go to a Bears game every again.

The end.

Idiotbox, Boob Tube, etc.

I don't trust people who don't watch TV.  There, I said it.  I'm not talking about people who can't afford TVs, let alone Tivos and cable.  I'm talking about people who have full access to such things, and yet say things like, "I just don't have time for TV." or "I'm so busy!"  There's always an air of superiority about people who say such things, as if their lives are somehow better and more full because they don't have time to watch the "idiotbox".  It's like sneering, "I'm too good for the mass entertainment that you plebian losers partake in." 

Let's get this out there: TV is bad.  The hours are filled with crappy reality shows in which contestants eat cockroaches and try to find the love of their life in front of cameras.  You could fill every single day, every single hour with worthless programming with shows that have the words fear or date in the title, or alternatively, every single show that MTV produces.  It could be a long bleak day.

But by the same token, you could fill every day, all day with good TV.  Leaving aside network television for the moment, PBS and the History Channel seemingly exist to educate people.  Reality shows on PBS are actually interesting; they take a nice American family and plunk them in the middle of colonial times and see what happens.  Or Victorian times.  You get the idea.  No one eats a cockroach, no one is looking for true love, and the most trying thing that usually happens is the struggle to live without electricity.  I'm not ashamed to admit that I love educational TV, and that sometimes Frontline is appointment TV for me.  And then there's all that programming that might not be educational, but has some value.  Like shows that make you laugh out loud.  Shows that make you feel happy inside.  All those things are on TV too.

Of course, there are Americans that make bad choices, and let TV take over for them.  They don't read books, they don't go out and experience things, they let it run their lives.  I'm sure those people exist.  But it's perfectly possible to read two to three books a week, go out to dinner with friends three times a week, spend quality time with your significant other, do the groceries, the laundry and the cleaning and still watch a good amount of TV.  I'm not going to be silly and say something about how it's all about balance, but duh, it's all about balance.  It's not going to make you a more stupid person if you don't let it. 

So don't say to me with that virtuous tone in your voice that YOU just don't have the TIME for tv.  Don't tell me that you're so BUSY and sigh and say something about how it doesn't really matter because it's all crap anyway.  Unfortunately for you, if you do that, I'll probably look at you like you have two heads and tell you to try again some other time, because right now I don't have the TIME for you and I'm so BUSY and then I'll sigh and say something about how it doesn't matter anyway.  Because you know, I just don't trust you if you don't watch TV.