Book Talk :: Odd Thomas

Odd Thomas
by Dean Koontz

I'm not going to wax poetic. Nor will I get really long-winded. (And if you believed that one, let me sell you some real estate on the moon...) This will be a quick "review" or "report" or whatever these are supposed to be.

This book was unquestionably entertaining. And well written. Dean Koontz has a fun style to read.

But...

This book was far, far darker than I like. I like books where each personality is multi-faceted and we can mourn the fatal flaws in our heroes and celebrate the small triumphs (even in the villains). The characters in Odd Thomas, while well-developed, seem in retrospect wholly evil or wholly lovable (if clueless).

That bugs me. It also bugged me that this book was so eerie. I mean, for heaven's sake, I've read every Agatha Christie book ever written and they were often a bit dark, but in general, that stuff is not for me. I love books that are gritty and real, but not when they deal with unadulterated evil. It just leaves me feeling icky.

I know that I'm in a vast minority with this issue--I have a rather weak stomach for suspense. I'm also afraid of the dark, so we'll just leave it at that. :-D

One last complaint: I hated the ending. Remember what I said earlier this week that some books leave you thinking, "I just read 400 pages to have the book end like THAT?" This book epitomized that for me. It left me feeling empty after the last page, as opposed to how full I felt after reading some of my recent favorites.

However, this book was intriguing and well formed. I would easily recommend it to people who aren't as squeamish as I am.

Reflections

Have you seen my face?

It was a reflection--
      it held my image
      and my children's
      and my housework
      and my religion
      and my anxieties
      and my fears
      and my hopes
      and my dreams.

So many filters to look through.

The image is distorted.
Is it just my reflection?
Or is it a true reflection of a changed person?

Strip away the onion.
Yes, it might make you cry.

Truth cannot hide forever,
     it must fall out.

What do I know?

Finance & economy are mysteries to me. I know I could study the U.S. economy for decades and still be essentially a gypsy searching the depths of a crystal ball.

However.

Fed Chairman Bernanke is reporting now that our economy is in distress and in dire need of a little help. I thought, "Great! Lower rates for mortgages will get people buying houses again. And I can refinance away from my ARM! Wahoo!"

However.

I was a bit too optimistic. According to the CNN article: "Former Treasury Secretary Larry Summers told lawmakers at a hearing of the Joint Economic Committee on Tuesday that Congress should immediately consider a stimulus package of $50 billion to $75 billion through a combination of tax cuts and increased spending on unemployment benefits and other programs. He also advocated that another $50 billion to $75 billion be set aside in case economic conditions weaken further."

So. The way to strengthen our economy is by increasing the federal deficit. Awesome! Or should I say: BOO!! I swear this country can't balance a budget to save their fiscal lives.

But what do I know? Just seems to me that it ought to be like airlines where they counsel you to put on your own oxygen mask before you help your kids. If the adult goes unconscious, it won't help your kids. I know I'm a total loser of a nobody in the economic world, but I can't help thinking that the way to strengthen our nation's economy is from the top down. Start decreasing the federal deficit. Enjoy a bit of fiscal responsibility. Then, once our nation's mask is in place, they can work on helping out the little guy.

But I still won't mind if I get a sweet refi on my mortgage. I've only got three years left on my 7/1 ARM.

Time OUT.

When your husband is working late... and the children are throwing FURNITURE down the stairwell... and laughing about it... and you are trying desperately just to put ONE load of laundry in the washing machine so you can have clean underwear tomorrow... and you have a cold... and the condescending guy at the Little Caesars wouldn't honor your simple request to have the freshest pizza because you live ten minutes away and instead smiles and says, "This one will be just fine, ma'am"... and of course the pizza is cold and disgusting by the time you get home ... and you wonder if the customer is always right or not? ... and you're living through this **bleep** while you were supposed to be enjoying your ONE evening a month out with adult conversation and good friends ...

Then you know it's time to take a deep breath and count to 10. 10 times. Then 10 more times. Then a few more deep breaths. And then hit the blog.

Book Talk :: Moloka’i

Moloka’i
By Alan Brennert

One of my favorite books, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, delves into the crazy idea that people don’t have to be miserable when the world around them is. Moloka’i is another such book. The message: life isn’t over until it’s over.

Separated from everything dear to her, the heroine of this book, Rachel, learns at a young age that life can still provide her with simple joys—and profound fulfillment. And though she spends many moments peeking into the abyss of despair, she also spends moments rescuing others from the black chasm of regret.

She encounters those who choose to allow their circumstances to define them, bitterness festering into hatred, until they are a shell of a human. She meets those who allow bitterness to overcome them despite the blessings and freedom she has longed so desperately for. This novel highlights that the human race is endowed with the ability to choose happiness…or to choose despair:

“God didn’t give man wings; He gave him the brain and the spirit to give himself wings,” counsels Rachel’s friend. “Just as He gave us the capacity to laugh when we hurt, or to struggle on when we feel like giving up. I’ve come to believe that how we choose to live with pain, or injustice, or death…is the true measure of the Divine within us. Some … choose to do harm to themselves and others. Others … bear up under their pain and help others to bear it.”

This historical novel chronicles the lives of those who lived on the island of Moloka’i: a colony of “lepers” who are outcast from their families, friends and the lives that were once commonplace. At times the colony is attended to and kept clean and up-to-date. At times, it is in ruins and neglected by the various governments who fly their flags on it’s shore. And mirroring the settlement are people who can choose whether they have come there to watch their life fall into ruin—or whether they have gone there to discover a new, if unexpected, life.

When Rachel first lands on the shores as a young child, she turns away, sickened, from the people who greet her with smiles. Later she learns to accept and love these people. She also learns to accept herself and the trials that have been handed to her: “Friends called out to her; the surf beckoned to her; her horse, on seeing her, happily nuzzled her neck. This was life, and if some things were kapu [or forbidden], others weren’t; she had to stop regretting the ones that were and start enjoying the ones that were not.”

This novel is also threaded with themes of religion, culture, family life and politics. Each piece flows together seamlessly, making this a novel that I would heartily recommend to others.

First words: "Later, when memory was all she had to sustain her, she would come to cherish it: Old Honolulu as it was then, as it would never be again."

Note: because of several graphic scenes, I would not recommend this book for a young audience. Although frankly, most books I read are not geared toward a young audience...

Book Talk :: Cannery Row

I have decided that it would be fun to occasionally post my thoughts on my recent readings. I personally love a good referral for a worthwhile novel. So many novels these days have a good plot, but insubstantial characters and canned dialogue. I require much more substantial fare. So I'm hoping that others can enjoy the recommendations, commendations and condemnations that I post here.

Cannery Row
by John Steinbeck

While the setting for this novel is somewhat bleak--an impoverished and ofttimes depressed coastal town in California--the characters are brought to life by everday exchanges and emotions the reader can relate to.

I knew after the first paragraph that this novel would be enjoyable because it is so well crafted. One would expect nothing less from John Steinbeck! I remember Steinbeck and Hemingway as the staples of my high school literary fare, as required by those who had seen more of the literary landscape.

Within a few more pages, however, I also knew this book would require a mind open to both the joys of human triumph and the pits of human sorrow. I am sometimes in the mood for lighter fare that is easy on the brain, but deep down I prefer novels that stretch my brain out of the comfort my body is residing in. Novels like Cannery Row, complete with mental illness, death, suicide, prison walls, mistakes and failed marriages, give me perspective on the small discomforts that annoy me.

Cannery Row, despite the earthy sadness that surrounds it, is not a depressing book. It is written in a very matter-of-fact tone. Emotions are not dwelt on. Facts are. Some novels spend 200 pages building toward a catastrophic tragedy that just feels unfair to the reader. They make the reader question, "Why did I just read all that setup for it to turn out this way?" Some novels seem to pull on the reader's heartstrings just to get a memorable reaction. Cannery Row is not such a book.

There is never the illusion that subjects will be whitewashed or ambiguous. Life is presented honestly and openly. For that, I consider it a breath of fresh air, tainted occasionally by the salty smell of the ocean wafting in over the pages of the novel.

The characters who weave the tapestry of Cannery Row's streets are lovable, if fallible. They are the kind of people one would be tempted to cross the street to avoid. Yet in the pages of this novel, one learns to love them and thrill to read of their small triumphs. At the heart of these emotions is "Doc" who is beloved throughout the town for the acts of charity he bestows on anybody who takes time to ask. There is Henri, the painter whom we can't classify as necessarily talented or untalented, but is definitely troubled. Lee Chong's surly attitude masks a large heart and a keen business intellect. The boys at the Palace Flophouse are as imperfect as they come, but intensely lovable.

First words: "Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream."

Calories

I sometimes wonder how different foods can have such divergent calorie amounts.

I just got a bowl of ice cream and decided that if I was going to have such an unhealthy treat, I may as well feel guilty about it. So I looked at the Nutritional Information and saw the bad news: 240 calories per half cup.

It got me wondering about food. Wouldn't it be cool if you could compare foods by the amount of space they take up on your plate? A plate of ice cream might be 1,000 calories while a plate of lettuce would be two. I propose that food be regulated by cubic inches on every package! That way we could compare foods directly, rather than comparing 123 fl.oz. of a beverage to 23 grams of a dessert. That's confusing and only slightly useful.

Cubic inches, now. There's an idea.

Snootiness

When I was a kid, and more importantly a teenager, I had ideas about what rich people were like. I unconsciously defined rich people as people who:

1. Had a house fewer than 10 years old, or...
2. Had a house with more than 2,800 square feet

Maybe my qualifications were loosely defined, but when you're a kid, anybody who has more than you seems rich. The house I grew up in was 2,400 sq.ft. (not all of that was finished square footage) and always had old age problems. I can't count the number of times we were lifting up the carpet and trying to dry it out after plumbing problems.

I had friends who had "big houses" and I thought they lived on Easy Street. But I had ideas about rich people, and I assumed my friends were the exceptions. I thought rich people were full of themselves, greedy and worldly. They seemed to act like they owned the world.

Fast forward to 2008 and I look around my house somewhat uncomfortably. It's big. It's comfortable. And it's only four years old. The plumbing, I'm pleased to say, works without a hitch. So why do I feel uncomfortable?

Maybe I have a feeling that it just can't last. Maybe I feel like I don't deserve a nice house like this. Maybe I worry about all those kids in third-world countries whose families would kill to have one room in a house like this. Or maybe I'm worried that I'll start to take it all for granted.

Maybe I'm worried that keeping up with the Joneses is a heck of a lot harder than it was growing up. Granted, I've always been too rebellious and independent to keep up with any danged Joneses. I'd rather be a liberal hippie than simply try to blend in. But I might be blending accidentally. Is that possible?

Before I moved into this neighborhood, I thought Rhinos were big, ugly animals, not cute and trendy little vehicle thingees. I didn't know Nordstrom had clearance sales because I'd never stepped foot in Nordstrom. I didn't know it was possible to park a huge boat next to your house on an RV pad because nobody in my neighborhood could have told you what the heck an RV pad was.

But I've learned other things with my neighbors. First of all, many of them may spend money at a faster clip than I personally do, but there's no need for alarm. They're awesome people! They have huge hearts, contagious laughter and good intellect. They're exactly the kind of people I want as friends. I never did have friends in my neighborhood growing up but this neighborhood fits me like a glove. I'm intimidated to death by my neighbors, but I admire them more than I can say.

Moral of the story is: teenage jealousy does not translate well into rational thinking.

...And yet, I do have to share one tiny little gem of a story. At my son's school, there are two lanes for dropping off kids. One is labeled for buses only and it is closer to the school. If you drop your kids off in the actual drop-off lane, your child has to cross a crosswalk in the Bus Lane to get to the school. I was informed by a neighbor on the first day that the principal would yell at me if I ever entered the bus lane. So I never have.

And yet, every time I drop Joseph off and he enters the crosswalk, some bleepity-bleep Mom or other pulls speedily into the bus lane. I see Joseph stop, hesitate and weigh out the situation. If he walks forward, he could get hit by that car barrelling through the parking lot. If he waits, he knows the bleepity bleep SUV will park in the crosswalk and sit there for five minutes so that Joseph will have to go in front of them or behind them (in front of another bleepity-bleep SUV that appears as big as Mount Everest to a scared five-year-old). Every day I watch this drama feeling a little annoyed. They always park in the middle of the crosswalk. Come on, people!

So today I was watching as a huge truck pulled into the bus lane. It's paint was peeling and it roared to life like only a huge truck can. It was obviously old but well-loved. I started feeling the familiar feeling of annoyance when, to my surprise, the driver of the truck pulled to a stop well before the crosswalk. He looked at the kids crossing the crosswalk--yes, he actually noticed them!--and was obviously concerned about their safety. I looked at the long line of SUVs piling up behind him and was grateful for one person who didn't act like his child was the only one whose safety mattered. He appeared to have a lot less money than the stream of perfectly-manicured Moms behind him. But his common courtesy reminded me of the good folks I grew up with, who couldn't afford to take anything for granted and still remembered that chivalry ain't dead.

New Moral of the Story: you really can't judge or categorize or stereotype people. You can just get to know them and realize that everybody has something wonderful to offer.

I Hereby Resolve...

Everybody seems to be blogging about their New Year's Resolutions.

Last year, I took a novel approach and made one (1) resolution. Then I really focused on it and tried to change my life. Looking back, I think it worked. I succeeded.

My resolution last year goes something like this: I will stop saying, "It can't be done because of the obstacles." I will start saying, "How can these obstacles be overcome?"

Last year was all about learning how to persevere, even when things seemed overwhelming (which, incidentally, was more frequent than I'd prefer.) As a result of that mindset shift, I overcame the obstacles that had prevented me from exercising regularly. I got up regularly at 5:45 a.m. and did 30 minutes of cardio, followed by a brief stretching routine (that's the reward for doing the cardio!) and a nice, but brief, shower.

What a difference that made in my life! I started getting energy back, stopped having so much back pain, and started feeling more cheerful and confident. It wasn't about getting perfectly thin--it was about feeling healthy. That was just a side effect of my "let's get it done" attitude shift for New Year's.

So how can I top that in 2008?

Drumroll please. My Resolution for 2008 is: I will stop looking to others to define who I am. I will reach to my innermost soul and discover confidence from within.

We all have our deep, dirty little secrets. I recently discovered one about myself, which has changed my life. It's not pretty, but now that I can define it, I can understand how to change it. The secret is that I have characteristics of "co-dependency." People who are codependent are uptight, anxious and bossy. (I'm not proud to admit this to friends, family, neighbors and perfect strangers...But most of you already knew.)

When you're co-dependent, you've taken the idea of "charity" way too far: you become completely enmeshed in other people's lives to an unhealthy point. You try to rescue them, and in the process, you make it so they don't have to help themselves. The book "Codependent No More" by Melody Beattie describes this well: we're doing the WRONG things for the RIGHT reasons.

The ugly side effect of this is that when you become codependent, you start to lose your own identity. Then you get blown about by other people. When somebody else is happy, you're happy. But if they're sad, you're sad. You don't know why. You just are. And you can't control it because you've surrendered your control to somebody else.

It's icky. It's ugly. It's stress-provoking. It's anxiety-provoking. You give and give and give and people just take and take and then don't respect you. You don't respect yourself.

But the great thing about it is that once you realize what's going on, you can put on the brakes. You can start to think for yourself again. You can have fun in life again! Woohoo!

Being a mother has gotten my life completely wrapped up in caring for other people--and there is NOTHING wrong with that. It's awesome to be a Mom. But if I don't take care of myself and learn to like myself, my kids will suffer for it. So for the benefit of my children and anybody else who has had me worry myself silly over them and suffocate them with good intentions, there is good news: the old me, who was funny and happy and full of life, will be back soon. Stay tuned, y'all.

Can't wait for 2008.

Economish

There's a reason I only skim the headlines of Housing Wire. Namely: I know nothing about economics, so the details of what's happening in the subprime crisis are complete jibberish to my Bachelor of Arts brain. Here's an example of the most recent fare:

"Those differences, however, have helped make mezzanine financing into Very Big Business™, since mezzanine debt is often treated as equity by the rating agencies. And — much more importantly — modern mezzanine lenders have taken to using the CDO market to leverage their returns.

I think you can see where I’m headed with this."

Umm, nope. Anybody else?

Finally!

The twins are nearly three years old and the day finally came. They are actually playing TOGETHER. Not just side-by-side in parallel play. Not just taking toys from each other and alternating screaming fits. They're actually chatting (unintelligably to me) with each other, working together to put together a train track. Taking turns with the battery-powered engine. And being happy together.

And I'm sitting here blogging. Nobody is pulling my hands away and crying, "Tommy took my engine!"

There is hope. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

More Festivities :: Green With Envy?

If you were green with envy over our hot Christmas plans, just wait until you hear about New Year's.

All the things we were hoping to do fizzled into silence, so we ended up at home, tucking the kids into bed at 8 p.m. as usual. (Okay, I admit: we let them stay up until 8:30. Whoop-dee-doo!) Then Josh and I played board games with my Mom until 10:15. Suffice to say, we were sound asleep by the time our neighbors decided to start shooting off fireworks.

Have you ever noticed that fireworks are less fun if you're trying to sleep through them? Here's how we rang in the New Year:

11:45 :: Asleep
Midnight :: Awakened by slightly annoying sounds of horns and noise makers
12:05 :: Back to sleep
12:07 :: Awakened by screaming child who is dead tired and does not appreciate the noise makers, horns and screaming
12:muchlater :: After forcing ourselves awake, tending to screaming child, losing yet a little more hearing, listening to more crying, etc. etc. we are finally able to get back to sleep
~30 minutes later :: Did somebody think Midnight came at 1:30 a.m.? Seriously folks, the fireworks were understandable at 12:01. Even 12:05. Even forgivable at 12:30. But there should be a limit on how late people can keep neighbors awake with fireworks. Since I know several neighbors read this blog, I dare not elaborate on the things I wanted to scream out the window as my sleep-deprived children and I tried to sleep through ANOTHER round of noise.

*sigh* I am getting to be such an old loser. Gone are the days (365 days ago?) when I was the one making noise and partaying. Someone teach me how to have a life again. Please?

~ ~ ~

Speaking of Festive Festivities, I feel it my duty to blog about the most unusual Christmas present my husband ever gave me. This was the pre-kids stage when we actually had time to remember we were married. One might suspect a fun Christmas present. Something impractical that Juliana's tightwaddery would never allow her to buy during the year. Maybe even a gift slightly romantic...?

Imagine my surprise when I opened up a package of ~10,000 staples. Huh. Staples! And thousands of them! I couldn't remember the last time I had stapled something, but I loved the gift! It was completely unexpected which is certainly worth big points. And memorable. So many Christmas gifts are entirely forgettable. But ain't nobody gonna forget 10,000 staples.

Fast forward to 2008. I had been searching all over the house for a stapler. Yeah, you'd think we'd have a nice stapler to go WITH all those staples. I found a cheap plastic 99 cent one that was broken. I could have sworn we had a nice one. Somewhere. (The trouble with a filthy house is that it's not always easy to find things like staplers, car keys or young children.)

So I went shopping yesterday for a new stapler. They had the same 99 cent cheap-os that I had tried before. Since that hadn't worked out, I decided an upgrade was advisable. They had some stapler combos for about $4 and some professional-grade staplers for about $10. The $4 stapler looked fine for what I need, but there was one major drawback. It came bundled with a staple remover and.... staples. Nooooo! No more staples! I actually stood there, staring at the $10 stapler for a long time, thinking it was worth the extra money NOT to have the staples bundled with it. But in the end, my tightwaddery won out and I am the proud owner of even more staples than I had before.

If you ever need staples, drop by and let me know. I'm here for you.

An Ode to 2008

My arms reach out to you: a year of mystery.
The past is stamped with fact
The future, unknown, calls to me
Like a mysterious lover

I look into your teasing eyes—
Will you promise joys innumerable?
Will you turn your back on me?
You wink and turn, beckoning

I follow, drawn by the gravity of time
I cannot fight your power. I don’t want to.
I believe all your promises: {my dreams}
Though you have left them unspoken

I want to look into the crystal ball of your gaze
But I cannot—I am afraid.
I lack the strength now that I will need then

Serenity reigns: the future will come.
Though it is a chasm, a darkness that none can see
I will carry myself through.
The Heavens will light the path.
I will hold the hand of my friends.
When I start to faint, others will buoy me up.
And as I am strong, I will lift others.

So I embrace what will come.
I kiss the lips of fate.
Though you may turn your back on me

I will not reject myself.

All is well, all is well.

Domestic Re-Orgs > Egg Nog

Josh got his final grade for his final assignments and final final for his final class of his final semester to get his Bachelor's Degree last week. He got a great grade and now the celebrations officially begin!

Last week we cleaned out our cold storage room, moved a desk into our "Room Without a Name" (which is now, naturally, "Juliana's Office :: STAY OUT"), reorganized the nook over our garage (which is now, happily, "The Library :: Sit Down and Relax (Kids STAY OUT!)") and started a new mail sorting system. If that's not festive, I don't know what is. I can't think of a better way to celebrate the end of his Bachelor's Degree.

Okay, so maybe Sandra has the right idea with booking a cruise, but well, cleaning out a cold storage room is kind of fun, too. (I'm trying to enter a delusional state where I actually believe that's true. I'll let you know if I can abandon reality enough to make it happen.)

It would be appropriate for me to acknowledge the holidays last week and list the cool, fun, family-oriented stuff we did for Christmas. In case you missed it, refer to paragraph (2) above. I could also write about boring stuff like Stocking Stuffers, chocolate cake, delighted looks on the wee ones' faces, and board game until midnight, but that stuff is tame compared to domestic reorgs. (Yes, a few mattresses were laid off during the internal restructuring. Our best wishes to them during this time of unemployment until they hit the land fill.)

Still Green

It's still good to be green. Dark green, even:

http://www.loanperformance.com/pressreleases/pr121907.aspx


There are many different reports I've perused regarding the current housing crisis and each paints a different picture. Each morning I glance at the headlines for an RSS feed called HousingWire. Each day, there is some new mortgage company in crisis, some new scandal regarding a well-established company or news of a plan to fix it all.

Most of the news is quite bleak. I have seen for myself in recent months the effect this is having locally.


1. Increased housing supply leads to ...
2. Stiffer competition to sell homes, which leads to ...
3. Panicky sellers who want to move their homes quickly, who then drop prices to incentivize buyers, which leads to ...
4. Dropping prices.


I was starting to worry that this would become a widespread phenomenon as appraisals started to use those panicky buyer's homes as comparables. In fact, how could that not happen? Despite my optimism that Utah will not spiral wildly out of control like other markets**, it seems logical that we'll experience at least a temporary, slight suppression of prices.


So, when good news comes along, I gotta embrace it. According to the above-sited source, the Salt Lake metro area is second only to Honolulu for U.S. home price increases over the last year.


I'm not sure why different articles' statistics are so divergent, but luckily I'm not an economist or realtor. I can just sit back and enjoy the show. And occassionally clap when I read an article like this. And wish I had some spare $100Ks sitting around to show my appreciation for the current levels of supply and demand.

** I earlier posted why Utah wouldn't see home prices drop. The great thing about life is that people can change their mind. This is called "growing up" and "keeping an open mind." I still reserve the right to enjoy the ride without defining myself by my past. :-D Cheers!

Mixed Feelings

For some reason, I used to have really unfriendly feelings toward our local HMO. Those feelings started to disappear when they hired my husband. It's hard to hate the organization that provides your family's paycheck. It's even harder to hate them when the per-paycheck premiums for health insurance are about half of what we used to pay.

Then you read the fine print: a deductible? That's evil! Here's what it means: your kids get sick and instead of paying a $15 copay to have the kids ears and throat checked, you start to stress. You think, "How much will it cost to take the kids in? Will it cost extra if they have to do a nebulizer treatment in the office? Will my flu shot cost extra? Will they charge me more if I see them for two problems in one appointment instead of just one?!?!" And you find yourself saying, "Well, maybe I'll take the kids in tomorrow. He only looks a little dehydrated" .. or... "There's only a little bit of blood" ... or... "His breathing isn't that labored. He'll make it through the night."

Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little bit with the "make it through the night" bit, but the point still stands. Instead of being able to go in to the doctor and get some reassurance (or a prescription, or advice, or whatever...) you start thinking, "The doctor probably wouldn't be able to do anything anyway."

Of course this is the reason evil HMOs came up with deductibles: it encourages people to stay home instead of going to the doctor, which is good financial sense for them. That's what they mean when they see "keeping costs down." Peace of mind is out the window, but whatever. They seem to be able to sleep through the night, even if my two-year-old son cannot.

This was on my mind a bit yesterday, since 80% of my household is sick right now. Nothing major, but it still got me thinking: I hate IHC.

Change of heart: My husband just got the details of his annual pay raise. I love IHC. I always love my husband's employers this time of year. My heart softens and I start to compose sonnets to the people who make it possible for me to have the best job in the world: a stay-at-home Mom (which, incidentally, is also the stinking stinkiest job in the world sometimes. See previous posts. But it's also the best.)

I'm almost resolved not to say the word "evil" when I pay $200 for a 15-minute visit to my wrist specialist next January.

But I might think it.

Exercise in Futility

As I was loading yet another load of laundry into the washing machine a few minutes ago, it hit me: THIS is why I sometimes hate being a stay-at-home mom. It's not the laundry per se. It's the fact that you're NEVER done! Unless you're doing laundry while you and your entire family are completely naked, there is more dirty laundry waiting for you! No matter hard you work to get it "done" it's never done. That small moment of accomplishment lasts no more than 12 hours when the kids start tossing dirty socks, pants, jackets, shirts, sweatshirts and underwear all over the living room.

Let's compare to my former life as a student: clear, concise, reachable goals with a definite deadline. And best of all, when you're done there is nearly instant feedback! Not only do you know if you are definitely "succeeding" or "failing" but you can even quantify your success or failure! My brain likes this. It's easy to wrap your mind around a 3.whatever grade point average and pat yourself on the back--it's not so easy to feel success when your kids reach some milestone. After all, shouldn't that be their success, not yours?

So where do we stay-at-home parents get our sense of accomplishment? Is it that laundry room that was totally clean for a record 45 minutes? Or the dishwasher that we unloaded barely in time to fill it up after dinner? Or is the dinner itself, which we spent four hours cooking and our families spent exactly 13 minutes gulping down or refusing to eat? Do we feel a sense of accomplishment when our kids clean their rooms after a mere seven weeks of being asked to?

Last night I went out to eat with some girlie friends from high school. We went to this cute little out-of-the-way restaurant called "Art City Trolley." Besides discovering that our server, Chris, was a really good sport with all of our giggling and snorting laughter, I also discovered there is a place that still serves that Heinz Ketchup that won't come out of the bottle. You remember those commercials where the guy would tip the bottle upside down, run down 99 flights of steps, buy a hotdog just in time for the ketchup to finally drip out of the bottle onto his plate? The motto was, "Good thing comes to those who wait."

I'm hoping that's true of parenting, too.

Flashback ~~ The Way My Brain Works

Flashback: It's 1990 and I'm in Junior High School. I've made the High Honor Role (or is that "Roll"? It is so not 1990 anymore) and I'm down in the foyer of Lakeridge Junior High, having my photo snapped with the rest of the 4.0ers.

** Open Mouth **

Me: "Hey Jerry, what are you doing here?"
Jerry: "I got a 4.o"

**Insert Foot**

Me: "Really?!?! I never would have guessed that of you."
Jerry, after a very, very, very slight pause: "Yeah, that's what I was just thinking about you."

I've never really given off "smart" and "academic" vibes and this is why:

The Way My Brain Works: The way I think and the way I talk are polar opposites. I don't mean to lead anybody astray. I just learned long ago that people give you funny looks when you sound like Jane Austen or Charles Dickens. I recently learned that being like totally bad at putting words together ... doesn't disqualify me from being an okay writer, because I can put my thoughts on paper and not my like totally valley girl lame convo.

The way I talk: "What it is, Bro? Oh duh. So, like, what's up with you? You good and stuff?"

The way I think: The door opened and my brother's distinctive voice echoed through the hall. As the sunlight fell on his profile, I saw unmistakeable signs of distress in his demeanor. As I meandered toward him casually, my eyes subtly scanned his face. His eyes looked tired and lacked their usual brightness. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together and his lips formed a slight frown until he noticed my presence. He smiled, but it was a tired smile--the smile you give to try to reassure other people--or yoursel--that yes, things are just fine.

I greeted him affectionately. [see above] He replied with an equally affectionate, and typically humorous, turn of phrase. His face and his sagging shoulders belied his light-hearted words.

Hi, don't be scared: No, but seriously, folks. I'm only slightly freakish in the way I think. The above example is much less frightening than what you'd get after I finish a good 200-year-old novel. I'm a cognitive chameleon--I can't help thinking in the phrases and expressions of the books I read: endless description with occasional dialogue after Dickens, humorous little social observations after Austen, and philosophical mental meanderings after Forster. I think that's part of why I love to read. For a brief time, it really changes the world I live in. If I could ever write well enough to create beautiful worlds for other people, I think that would be about all I could ask for from this crazy life.

My Swiss Heritage

This is where I was raised:

View Larger Map

This is where I could have been raised, had my great-grandfather stayed in Switzerland:

View Larger Map

Notice the greenness of Rueggisberg? The quaintness? The history that comes with being hundreds of years old?

Orem is less than 100 years old. It's full of streets. And houses. And really, really ugly cinderblock strip malls. And more strip malls.

I knew people made large sacrifices when they joined the LDS church and came to Utah to be with "the saints." But I never thought I'd feel that pain so intensely, removed several generations as I am.

I could have been raised in Switzerland...

I could have been Swiss...

The cuckoo clocks and the..

Dare I speak it?

The chocolate! Swiss Chocolate! I think I'm gonna go cry myself to sleep. *sniff*

Requested Recipe :: Chocolate Squares

Here are two recipes requested from my Book Group last night. I provided treats that centered around a European theme--focusing on Germany, where our selected book was set. Now you're all lucky enough to be able to make these unique Christmas goodies, too! Enjoy und guten appetit!



CHOCOLATE SQUARES
Elsa Siegmund

1 c. + 2 TBSP. flour (sifted)
½ tsp baking powder
½ cup butter
1 ¼ cups sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
5 eggs (separated)
3-4 squares (3-4 ounces) semi-sweet baking chocolate (grated)
Optional: Chocolate Butter Cream Frosting (recipe below)

Instructions:
Grease and flour baking pan (about 9 x 13” size). Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Sift flour and baking powder together. Set aside. Grate chocolate and set aside.

Cream together butter and sugar. Add egg yolks and vanilla. Mix well. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff. Alternately fold beaten egg whites, flour and grated chocolate into butter mixture.

Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 30-35 minutes at 325 degrees or until top is slightly browned and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan (about 15-20 minutes) and then cut into squares. Roll each square in a bowl of sugar until well coated.

Optional: After squares have completely cooled, cut them in half (separating the top and bottom) and fill with chocolate butter cream frosting (below) if desired.

CHOCOLATE BUTTER CREAM FROSTING

2 eggs
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1-2 tsp vanilla extract
3-4 cubes (ounces) semi-sweet baking chocolate
1 1/3 stick butter at room temperature

In double boiler, mix eggs and sugar and cook over medium heat, till mixture begins to thicken. Add vanilla extract. Soften chocolate in oven or microwave and add to egg mixture. Cook till chocolate is completely melted and mixture is smooth. Allow to cool in refrigerator. When almost cool, add chocolate mixture to butter a little at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat till mixture is smooth.

Makes enough frosting for a 3-layer cake (8-9” layers). Best to use fresh, but frosting can also be refrigerated or frozen for later use.

MOM'S PFEFFERNUSSE
See the full recipe at http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/recipefinder/moms-pfeffernusse-2518

Personal notes for the chocolate squares: I combined the shredded chocolate with the flour + baking powder and that turned out fine. I highly (highly) recommend the optional filling. So yummy, and there's plenty left over to use for something else (or you could make a half batch of the frosting and have plenty for these squares). I did not sift my flour, but mixed it around in the container before scooping it to loosen it up a bit. If you buy an eight-ounce box of baking chocolate, you can use half in each recipe (cake + frosting), or have two ounces left over for dipping pretzels, marshmallows or other yummies. Somebody suggested I fill these with Nutella instead of the Chocolate Buttercream. That sounds like an amazingly awesome idea. I'll just have to make another batch. Oh snap!