Naughty

Even when I was in high school I knew the line from The Little Mermaid "Betcha on land they understand that they don’t reprimand their daughters" was hilarious. It’s even funnier now with a daughter of my own. Who needs to be reprimanded quite frequently in fact. For instance last night, when she and her brother ran away from home. At bedtime. In their jammies. To the neighbor’s house.

I’m not entirely sure what they thought they were doing. We had been over to the neighbor’s that evening, splashing around in their wading pool in the backyard. Neither Kirk nor Veronica wanted to leave, despite it being bedtime. Thankfully the neighbor helped get them out of there by deflating the pool and dumping out the water. We all went home, got dried off, and into pajamas. While I was gathering wet clothes for the laundry I realized they had gone outside. Which, strictly speaking, was enough to get them into trouble but I was going to let it slide, thinking they were just in the backyard. I stepped outside to shoo them in and realized they weren’t actually in our yard. I started calling for them and noticed they were two houses over, about to go through the back gate to the neighbor’s that we had just left. They hustled over so fast when they saw and heard how mad I was. Mr. b yelled at them big time and Kirk blamed Ronnie, of course, and Ronnie was in tears and they were sent straight to bed and they’re grounded from TV. Kirk tried to suggest they get grounded from going outside. Yeah right. Nice try buddy.

The ironic thing is that just that afternoon, we got set up with cameras to record Ronnie’s temper tantrums. When the kids were born I signed each of them up to be participants in various child development studies with the University. Kirk’s gone in a few times to do various cognitive development tests, like play with blocks and look at pictures. Simple stuff, quick and easy and fun. A couple of months ago they called about one for Veronica. Initially it was just a survey about how she reacts during a tantrum and how frequently they happen and how long they last. I knew she’d get picked for the larger study and sure enough, she did. They’re researching aggression and using toddlers as their human baseline, because they don’t yet have societal pressure altering their behavior. Obviously they need a lot of raw data for such a complicated statistical model so they’re taping 100 toddlers having three tantrums each. The research assistant came by yesterday and got the cameras in place and walked us through the paperwork. I already have a tantrum for her to come and download. Ronnie freaked out about a) fruit snacks [she’s only allowed one packet a day] and b) not coming to the grocery store with Mama. It’s not even the biggest, baddest one she’s ever had. But it certainly had many of the unique behaviors they’re cataloging – stomping, crying, hitting, yelling, walking away, reaching for comfort – so it definitely qualifies. I think we’re going to get our allotted three tantrums filled up in a hurry. I wonder what’s the fastest any family has completed the inventory? We’re just excited to have witnesses.

I Miss Carbs

I’m having a hard time adjusting to the lack of carbohydrates in my diet. I’m a carb kind of gal and I’m noticing an increase in dizziness, floaters in my vision, headaches, and other things like that. Things that I’ve long associated with low blood sugar. That I used to be able to take care of by just eating a granola bar or some peanut butter toast. Now I’m filling myself with cheap carbs like soda and potato chips. Just to try to feel full for a minute. But it never lasts. No matter how much protein I try to add. My meeting with the medical nutritionist is tomorrow.

Yes, the celiac diagnosis is official. I briefly met with the GI docs again last week. Basically the diagnosis is two-fold: outright celiac disease and a bunch of medical bullshit that boils down to “manifestation of celiac disease”. I’ve been doing the gluten-free thing, more or less, for two weeks now and I’ve definitely noticed a difference…in my poop. I’m very excited that I’m no longer having daily diarrhea. I keep joking that the only time you’re excited about poop is with your infant, or if you’ve had diarrhea for four months.

I haven’t noticed any other differences yet. I’m exhausted but that’s likely from a non-stop weekend of Kirk’s birthday party, my dad’s BBQ reunion, and blowing shit up with neighbors in the alley. I’m supposed to keep taking my daily iron supplement for the next couple of months before trying to cut that off and see if I still need it. Other than that, I don’t know what else to look for.

I’m trying to keep track of what I’m eating so I can tell what makes me sick. Apparently very small amounts of gluten will have a big effect once I’ve fully transitioned. I had icky poo again two mornings in a row, once after Red Lobster and once after homemade gluten-free macaroni and cheese. Initially I thought maybe there was cross-contamination in my steak and baked potato. I tried to be careful with what I ordered at the restaurant. But then when I felt icky the second morning I looked to rum as the potential culprit – I had a Bahama Mama while out and a glass of homemade rum punch the following night. Mr. b told me to try rum a third time before cutting it out and sure enough, that wasn’t a problem. So now I’m back to wondering about cross-contamination and reviewing my food log to see what might have been the issue the second time.

Meanwhile, I’m not sure I like gluten-free bread. We bought a loaf of Schär multi-grain last week and I made us some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. Both Mr. b and I liked them a lot. But when I made myself a grilled cheese this weekend, it wasn’t very good. The bread has to be used very quickly or else frozen so I’m thinking the defrosting and then grilling was the problem. We’ll see if I can come up with another method of cooking it. I found a double corn tortilla to be a very excellent substitute for a hot dog bun!

Gluten-Free

My wrist is bruised from where the IV was in. It was really sore yesterday. I have my follow-up with the GI docs tomorrow so I’ll ask them about that. I never did get a call about the biopsy results so theoretically I’ll find that out tomorrow, too.

We’re starting slow with the gluten-free foods. Our usual grocery store has a small section in the hippie aisle. We taste-tested two different spaghettis, one was quinoa/corn and the other was corn/rice. The whole family liked both, which was a relief. It definitely cooked differently than regular semolina wheat spaghetti, and the texture of the leftover noodles is different, but in both cases it wasn’t bad, merely not what I’m used to.

I’m not ready to dive headlong into gluten-free baking. The idea that I’m going to need a half dozen different flours and combine them in various ways with xanthum gum and other stuff is just too daunting. I’ve got a loaf of gf bread and we’ll see how that tastes. I’m planning on mostly rice and potatoes for starches for meals this week. And there’s always corn tortillas.

So far, I’m just winging it. Cutting out the obvious wheat/rye/barley. And I’m staying away from oats until my system is cleared, then I’ll try them to see if they affect me or not. I’m not worrying about the celluloses and glutamates and dextroses and maltoses and whatnot. I know some are wheat based and some are corn based and frankly the internet is just overwhelming. I’m meeting with a nutritionist next week. I’ll ask for a list of what’s OK and what’s bad then. I figure the trace amounts of gluten in various derivatives isn’t going to be enough to set me off since I’m not 100% gluten-free yet. I know some people can get sick from one crumb but I haven’t been at this for even a full week yet. And I cheated last Friday, having one last sandwich from the deli at work, just to say goodbye. *sniff* I’ll miss you, delicious deli sammiches.

Celiac

Last week I had my first appointment with the GI specialist. The doctor was handsome, very smart, and eager. He put together my history, like the flu in February and unexplained anemia since I was a teenager. The senior fellow came in (it’s the University so it’s a teaching hospital; I just thought it was funny that the “learner” himself is a full-fledged MD) and praised handsome doc for the job he did with the background analysis. Essentially they think I’ve pretty much always been celiac. In 10-15% of cases the only symptom that ever manifests is anemia so if I hadn’t had the triggering event of the viral infection, I possibly would never have known. Senior doc thought it was irresponsible of my past doctors to not look deeper but hey, it was over 20 years ago and they assumed it was puberty and starting to menstruate and all that and I’ve been taking iron for so long I just never think about it. He thinks that the mal-absorption of iron will go away with the other dietary changes, so that’ll be interesting. I wasn’t supposed to eliminate gluten yet though; they wanted me to wait until after the endoscopy. They expect that I’ll notice improvement in things I never noticed were affecting me before, like energy levels. When he asked if I’m often tired I joked that I have young kids, of course I’m tired!

I had my endoscopy yesterday. Because of a series of stupid events, I was over two hours early. (And hungry. I couldn’t eat anything after 7am.) I was fine in the waiting room but when they took me in to the prep room I started to freak out. The prep nurse explained to me step by step everything they were going to do and when she left to let me change into my hospital gown, I started crying. Yes, it’s PMS week so my emotions are nuts but I was still in tears. She came in and tried to help soothe me a bit and put in the IV shunt, which never felt right the entire time. I don’t remember it being so uncomfortable when I had them in for labor. But then again, I was in labor so a bit distracted. I had some time to read and text so that helped to keep my mind off of it but not completely.

Then they came to get me to the procedure room. There was a different nurse for that one and she was amazing. She tried to re-settle my IV and wrapped me up in hot blankets and did a fantastic job of helping to calm me. But I was still on the verge of bawling the whole time. They had warned me that the same senior doctor was always 15 minutes late. He ended up being an hour late. I just tried to close my eyes and doze off. It’s hard to actually sleep when there’s so much hustling and bustling in the hall outside and when your nerves are so on edge. Doctor finally got there and he’s a Tasmanian devil of humor and activity so I didn’t have time to freak out. He went through what they were going to do again and then he sprayed the back of my throat with basically just that lidocaine stuff the dentist uses; I had to swallow it though to get it down as far as possible. Meanwhile the nurse was injecting the narcotics and something else into my IV shunt. They hit me so fast. I felt woozy, like that spot *just before* you get the spins when you’re lying down after too many drinks. But it never got to the spins thankfully. I got another dose of the spray and another dose of the hippie drugs and they had me lying on my left side. Then I had to bite onto this circular bite guard thing and the doctor stuck the hose in my mouth. I had my eyes closed so I wouldn’t accidentally see it or the view screens from the camera. I had to swallow it and that was the hardest part. My gag reflex was tamed from the numbing spray but I still had to swallow three times to get it past. Then it was basically like being at the dentist, with the doctor giving the nurse instructions that meant nothing to me and she was doing stuff I couldn’t see and also rubbing my back and telling me how good I was doing and reminding me to breathe through my nose. Then the doctor said he was done and pulled the thing out. It took about 4 minutes. Then I had to spit out all the collected spittle (which obviously I couldn’t swallow with the thing down my throat) and they wheeled me to the recovery area to come down from the drugs.

My sister came in and I could barely follow along with her usual pace of things. The recovery nurse had me drink some water to make sure I could swallow. I was super loopy from the “conscious sedation”, which they do because otherwise they’d have to have you on the breathing machine if you were knocked out fully. All I cared about was getting the dang IV thing removed because it was so uncomfortable. I can definitely understand why they don’t want you driving but I would have been able to take the bus by myself. But they don’t have any way of knowing that I’m an expert bus taker. So. I was mostly down from the drugs by the time we got home and then I was just starving and tired. I went to bed at 8:30 last night.

The doctor came in while I was in recovery to talk about what he saw. He took biopsies of a couple different spots, in my stomach and duodenum, and will call me tomorrow with the results. But he said that if it’s not positive for celiac then he’s a liar. Which is why I have to start my new diet right away. I have to make an appointment with the nutritionist, too. We haven’t done any gluten-free shopping yet, and can’t until pay day, so I’m making due with what’s on hand. Which is mainly corn tortillas.

Butt Update

Last week Ronnie started wearing underpants. Now, this does not mean she is fully potty trained. In fact, I would say instead that she is merely in the process of potty training. She still has accidents. Lots and lots of accidents. But for her, just wearing panties is enough to make her remember to use the potty and she really, really hates having to wear a diaper at all now.

It’s amazing how different the potty training experience is with Veronica compared to her brother. Kirk was just uninterested in it at all. Pure laziness. He would have kept going in a diaper forever if we would have let him. Which is why we started the sticker charts. Potty candy was all well and good but ultimately, he needed a bigger reward. Earning stickers to save up for a toy prize mattered a whole lot more to him than the personal pride of a pair of underpants. I guess that’s why Ronnie’s moving forward so much quicker and at such a younger age. I’m not sure if it’s the younger sibling thing or the girls-train-earlier-than-boys thing or personality differences or some combination of all of that. But it’s definitely been unique.

Kirk always used the actual potty chair. He didn’t switch to the potty ring until he had been using the little chair for quite some time. We’d always have to clean it out and it was gross. Ronnie has never used anything but the toilet seat ring insert. When she was first showing interest many months ago, I pulled the potty chair out and she would sit on it but it was basically just a toy. She didn’t start actually going until I set her on the ring. That’s what she uses at daycare, too.

So now I make sure she goes every morning when she first gets up. She’s really good at morning pee. The rest of the day is hit or miss. She’s been going to daycare in underpants but always ends up coming home in a diaper. She still needs one while sleeping so she needs one while taking a nap. Miss Ronica likes to then have her panties on top of her diaper, so she’s still wearing them. Sort of. I must say, size 2T Hello Kitty panties are just about the cutest thing ever.

Mama’s also been having increased potty focus the past few months. The entire family got hit with a nasty bout of stomach flu back in February. All four of us were down for several days with repeated puking and diarrhea. It was not fun. But after we all got well, my butt never went back to normal. Essentially, I’ve had intermittent diarrhea for months now. I thought maybe it was red meat so cut that out. I cut out alcohol and caffeine and dairy. None of that made any difference. I tried adding lactobacillus to my water. Nope. So I finally went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago and had blood taken and had to provide a stool sample. That was a real joy to collect.

Last week I got the results of the tests back. “Your blood tests for Celiac disease (gluten sensitivity) were both quite elevated. This makes the diagnosis quite likely.” Awesome. I have an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist set up for next month. But in the meantime, I get to speculate on life with a possible celiac diagnosis. There is no cure. The only way to fix my butt issues would be to change my diet. Radically change my diet. Wheat gluten is in *everything*. Seriously. It’s used to thicken even ice cream! I love pasta and bread and crackers and cereal. Sure, my favorite grains have long been corn and oats but there’s wheat flour in corn bread and dieticians are divided on whether or not oat gluten is also bad. Basically it’s at the point now where every time I eat a sandwich or a plate of spaghetti I find myself thinking, “Is this the last time I’ll ever be able to eat it?” I’m not supposed to modify my diet on my own before additional testing or else I’d have to eat a bunch of gluten specifically for tests. So in the meantime, I’m keeping on keeping on.

But what will this mean for my family? I already have a massively picky eater in Kirk. Dinner is a fight more often than not. I don’t want to have to make special meals for myself but I also don’t want to have to force them to eat weird grains and bizarre recipes when they don’t have to. There are just so many factors and such a potential for ripple effects. I’m trying not to worry. But being celiac would certainly help to make sense of certain things my whole life so part of me would be happy just to have the answers. Even if that means knowing that I’ll pay later for that sandwich on delicious whole grain bread.

Libraries Rule

Never apologize for your reading taste.
-- Betty Rosenberg, Library Science educator

I’ve always loved this quote. I think it’s an important thing to keep in mind whether you’re a voracious reader or only read a handful of books a year. But it’s especially important when you find yourself “stuck in a rut”. Genreflecting is a legitimate way to find your next read and it’s OK to stick with what you already know you like.

Something else that’s important? Quitting a book that you don’t like. This is a tricky one. My aunt has been extremely influential on me with this one. She’s a professional librarian and so reads a lot. Like, a LOT a lot. And obviously even when you’re surrounded by books day in and day out, there’s still a limit to how much you can actually get read. So if it’s not making you happy, don’t waste your time. I’ve found it rather freeing to know that I *can* put down a book unfinished. But it took a long time to get to the point where I was comfortable actually doing so. And I still don’t do it often. Usually once or twice a year the book club selection will just plain not appeal to me but I’ll try it out for a few chapters, if only to get a feel for the writing and be able to explain why I didn’t like it and didn’t continue. Rarely will I quit a book that I picked out for myself.

Over the past year and a half or so I’ve tried to stay on top of modern publications by requesting books from the library as I read an intriguing sounding review in a magazine. Yes, usually they’re something I would normally be drawn to anyway but it’s a trick that has pulled me into new directions, too. Sometimes I don’t remember exactly why I was interested in the title and by the time it becomes available on the wait list it will be a complete surprise me to me. Typically a pleasant surprise. But sometimes I’ll take a look at the cover art and read the flap and find that for some reason, I don’t want to read it. So I return the book unread. That’s been a shock to me and it’s also been incredibly liberating. Still, it’s not the usual event. More often than not I’ll read the book anyway and be very glad I did.

Sometimes it’s not that I don’t want to read the book at all. It’s instead that I don’t feel like reading it right at that moment. Tastes change and like with movies, sometimes you just aren’t up to the in depth historical drama or the intricate character study. You just want a comedy or a thriller or explosions and action. So in those instances I’ve returned the book unread, but then re-requested it, putting myself to the back of the queue but still getting it again at a later date.

Now. Here’s where these habits are all starting to intersect. I’m starting to have repeat returns. My Shelfari shelf of I Plan To Read has several books that I’ve checked out and returned unread and re-requested more than twice. Which is silly. I’m trying to be realistic. I know I’m never going to finish Game of Thrones in time, especially with new interest due to the TV show; it’s just always going to have a wait on it making it impossible to renew. The Book Thief is ridiculously popular right now and I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever be “in the mood” for a YA Holocaust tale. But I’m sure it’s as good as they say. I’ve been meaning to read His Majesty’s Dragon for several years now but my library only has a single copy and for no apparent reason, it seems to have a lot of requests on it at all times. It’ll be interesting to see if I do give up on any of them. I finally realized I was never going to actually read The Kraken after the second time I checked it out and I haven’t requested it again since.

What am I reading mostly these days? Supernatural mysteries and YA dystopian futures. So books that fall into those bailiwicks I’m eating up with no problem. I picked out Journal of a UFO Investigator strictly based on that awesome title. All I knew is it was YA and had a great cover. What I’m finding is that it’s a somber coming of age story. And it’s really good. But I don’t know that I want to keep going with it. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll return it unfinished and request it again, or just give it up for lost. I think I would ultimately be satisfied with the read. But it’s hard and it hasn’t really grabbed me yet. And I have the next Nightside, as well as the next Black London, sitting on my bedside table. And I think I’d rather find out how John Taylor is going to track his mythical mother through alternate universes, or watch Pete Caldecott grow closer to Jack Winter as she learns how to control her newfound magicks and try to balance that with her mundane day job of a detective inspector.

And I’m not going to apologize for that.

East of Eden

It took over a month, and I read two novels and three graphic novels and one short story on top of it, but I finally finished all 601 pages of John Steinbeck’s epic East of Eden.

I’ve been slowly rediscovering Steinbeck thanks to book club. I guess “re”discovering is a bit of a misnomer. I read some in high school. For sure Grapes of Wrath, which I didn’t care for at all. Possibly also Of Mice and Men which left no impression. I never really understood what the big deal was. Then last year we read Cannery Row and I fell in love.

East of Eden is a big book. Much bigger in tone and reach than just page count. It covers three generations of two families, one being Steinbeck’s own maternal grandfather. The main family focus is the Trask family; I don’t know if they are entirely fictional or somewhat based in local legend and frankly I don’t know if it matters. As we follow these characters through time we also cross the continent, to the Salinas Valley of California, which is where the author grew up. His grasp of the land itself, not just the geography, is gorgeous and visceral. His narration of the lives of these families is occasionally interrupted by musings on humanity, which to me seemed to point the reader in the direction of that section’s theme and enhance and enrich the reading experience. And his characters themselves, while usually larger than life, still seemed real, even when clearly they were archetypes filling a role on an epic stage.

Essentially, East of Eden is a retelling of the Book of Genesis. The players change roles as they age and mature. The plot doesn’t follow the Bible’s order specifically. But there is sacrifice and love and hatred and betrayal and choice and learning. At times I felt like I was being hit over the head with allegory, “Look at me! I’m playing with Cain and Abel! Aren’t I clever!” But then the characters would actually discuss and dissect the actual verses of Cain and Abel and fascinating things would come of that. The writing felt extremely modern as did the handling of various social issues from Chinese immigrants (the reveal of manservant Lee’s innate intelligence was both hilarious and telling) to sexuality (Kate the evil whore’s brilliant blackmail scheme after she took over as madam).

In that way I both liked the book immensely and couldn’t love it entirely. It is clearly The Great American Novel. It’s beautiful and moving and brilliant and amazing. But it’s a little *too* good. It’s a little *too* perfect. It’s not lived in the way that Cannery Row was. Yet I was crying at the end. I would put the book down at points and be just completely exasperated by the characters, usually Cathy. There was never any question of me not finishing it. But it took time and I didn’t just fly through it. I wanted to digest the story. And I decided that the public school system is doing a disservice by making kids read Steinbeck so young. I think you need age and experience to fully appreciate these stories and this style of writing. I plan to go back and reread Grapes of Wrath and I expect to adore it.

Veronica at Large

It’s been two weeks since Ronnie had her second birthday. Since it fell on a Monday this year, we had her party the Sunday before. She had a great time opening her presents.



Brother got her a stuffed Olivia, but she still wouldn’t put down the Puffle.



The Easter hat was a hit, but the Jessie doll stole the show. Boy howdy does that girl love Toy Story 3.



We had cake and visited with friends and relatives and it was a lovely afternoon.

Miss Veronica seemed to get extra naughty following her birthday. I mean, even more naughty than she already was. And the crowning achievement of said naughty? Taking off her poopie diapers in her crib. Or in her nap bed at daycare. Basically, just wherever she happens to be. She still won’t poop in the potty more than the occasional shart when she’s already sitting there, but she refuses to stay in a soiled diaper for one second longer than she deems necessary. Which means that she’s getting crap everywhere. Rare are the days she comes home from daycare with the same outfit on. Or if she is, it’s because she already had that one washed, ruined the second one, and got switched back into the first one. We’re going through crib sheets like mad, too, changing them sometimes twice a day – after naps and after night – on the weekends.

But at least she has finally adjusted to daycare. Ronnie is happy to go now, willing to say goodbye to me without tears or clinging on. She even will occasionally be having too much fun to want to leave when I pick her up! But even if I do get her settled into the car without a fight, we then have to go to school to pick up Brother from Adventure Club. And that’s where the trouble usually takes place. Kirk is a master staller, always has been, and he loves Adventure Club and rarely is ready to leave when we get there. Which feeds back into his sister. So a typical evening now involves me forcibly hauling Ronronica to the car from the school, sometimes carrying her boots or coat that she ripped off in a fit of pique, and trying to get the two of them to not fight over the remains of Kirk’s bag lunch in the back seat. I’ve gotten into the habit of bringing snacks with to pass out for the drive home from school. Even with them eating something in the car, they are still famished when we get home. I have to fix them a second snack before I can even start on supper.

We had a brand new development last night. Something that Kirk never did. Ronnie climbed out of her crib. Twice! She was fighting going to bed and screamed so I went in there to hold her for a few seconds. I opened the door and saw her dangling by her fingertips over the side of the crib and then she let go and dropped the remaining few inches to the ground. My jaw dropped and I turned to Kirk, “Oh my god did you see that?!” Mr. b couldn’t believe it. But when we thought we had her calmed down and back in bed, we heard more clunking around sounds. Sure enough, she was out of the crib and making a beeline for the bedroom door. Apparently we’ll be buying a toddler bed this week.

Raise Your Hand if You Like Lists

I joined a Mom’s Group at the UU church and we meet about once a month. It’s been nice to get to know the other ladies there, especially since we’ve been so crap about actually going to service every week this winter. I still find it kind of unsettling to be attending any kind of organized religious anything but I think it’s important for the kids to get the experience. Going to church of any kind is a normalizing experience in the US and there are so many young kids in the small congregation. It’s really great seeing how much fun they have.

The common ground for all us moms is that we seem to all be big readers. So we decided that for our next meeting, we’d share our top fives. Obviously I couldn’t come up with just five...

Favorite Standalone Novels
Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien
I think this one is self-explanatory. Anyone that’s followed me over to LJ and read my various Farscape and Babylon 5 posts knows how much I love this book. I’ve probably read it at least a dozen times. It’s been a few years and I really need to delve into it again. I always find something new.
Celestial Matters by Richard Garfinkle
Possibly my favorite book of all time. Recently re-reading it again really cemented for me why this is such a tough one to recommend though. I'm pretty much the perfect audience: comparative religion. Ancient Western and Ancient Eastern history. Hard science. Speculative fiction. Lots of hand to hand combat. Space. I mean, who else fits that specific intersections of loves? No really, are you out there? Who else loves this book as much as I do?
The Years of Rice and Salt by Kim Stanley Robinson
Speaking of comparative religion, Ancient Eastern history, and speculative fiction…this is the pinnacle of alternative histories as far as I’m concerned. Let’s say that the Black Death killed 90% of Europe instead of “merely” 30%. That changes everything. And the way we get to travel through multiple eras in this new timeline is by following the same souls as they reincarnate into different characters in each period. It’s incredibly thought-provoking as well as a wonderful story.
Superfudge by Judy Blume
Sure, her other titles get more acclaim. But come on. “Eat it or wear it” is clearly the funniest scene of all time!
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
This is the first book I started re-reading on a regular basis, back in junior high. I haven’t been through it in a number of years but it’s still as vivid in my head as if I just finished it yesterday.

Favorite Series
Harry Potter by JK Rowling
Again, do I really have to explain myself? Long before I had even head of TWoP I joined the HPforGrown-Ups egroup, just for speculation. It was my first online fandom and I still love over-analyzing every aspect of it.
Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey
I discovered this series back in the mid-90s thanks to a sort of unofficial book club with my field crew at the time. Someone loaned me the first trilogy and I was hooked. The dragons were awesome enough but then there are fire lizards, too? And everyone can have one? WANT! They’re like kitties, but psychic, and with teleportation. What’s not to like? Plus then the series turned out to have a sci-fi explanation for all the fantasy elements? LOVE!
Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson
This is hard science fiction at its best. There’s a good reason this series is much loved by actual rocket scientists: this is what colonizing Mars would *actually* be like. But on top of the factual basis are some of the most compelling characters and exciting adventures. I wanted to sign up for a Mars mission for a very long time after finishing this.
Anne of Green Gables by LM Montgomery
Long before I ever knew what “shipping” was, I used to daydream about Anne and Gilbert finally getting together and living happily ever after. Thanks to a recent complete re-read, I can honestly say this series hold ups to your girlhood memories.
Dresden Files by Jim Butcher
Harry Dresden is a wizard for hire. No seriously. Look him up in the Chicago phone book. He’ll find your lost items but he doesn’t do love potions. Of course each book finds his seemingly innocuous case leading him into something much bigger and more deadly. The world building continues to grow and the sideline characters are being fleshed out in ways not often seen in such a long-running series. The most recently published title, punnily enough, changes everything, and I suspect the series is going to take a rather much more muchier epic tone as Butcher builds to his promised finale trilogy. The publication date of the next book cannot possibly get here fast enough.

Favorite Graphic Novels
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neill
Don’t give me any of that “But I don’t like comic books” crap. This is illustrated story-telling for literature nerds. Every single panel has a reference to something brilliant from some other source. Every single character is taken from a Victorian novel and set free from the constraints of their native pages to have adventures of their own. Mina Harker, Captain Nemo, the Invisible Man, Mr. Hyde, and Alan Quatermaine join together under the direction of Mycroft Holmes to fight steampunk baddies. It’s sheer brilliance.
Superman: Red Son by Mark Millar
Tremendously inventive reimagining of the Superman mythos: what if baby Kal-El landed in Soviet Russian instead of Kansas? All the usual suspects show up, from Wonder Woman to Lex Luthor and Lois Lane. Plus a twist ending that will make you gasp.
Hellboy by Mike Mignola
This is dark humor at its best. Hellboy is everything great about film noir and hard boiled detectives, all while also being the actual literal demon of the apocalypse. His personal story arc is moving and compelling and the side characters get their own focus in the continuation spin-off BPRD.
Mixed Vegetables by Ayumi Komura
Don’t let the “backwards” manga format scare you. These characters jump off the page. Hana and Hayato are students at a Toyko culinary high school. Hana dreams of being a sushi chef but her father expects her to take over his pastry shop. Hayato dreams of being a pastry chef but his father expects him to take over his sushi shop. Star-crossed lover antics ensue, along with lots of great follow-your-dreams messages and yes, a happy ending. Yay!
Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
The book that made the general public pay attention to comics. Every superhero trope ever set to page is turned on its head. The alternate 80s setting still resonates today. And the characters have as many flaws as we regularly expect from our serialized television dramas. Plus superpowers and aliens and world domination plots.

And now I find myself wondering what other sorts of categories I should do top fives for. Alternate Histories? Non-Fiction? Young Adult? Eighteenth Century Sailing Adventures?

BOOKS READ IN 2010

It looks like it’s time for my annual book list! Hard to believe another year has passed already. It’s also hard to believe just how many titles I have on here! Wow. I’m astounded at my 87 completed in 2010. Granted many of these were super quick; I read my usual dozen-ish graphic novels and manga. The Superman alt-history blew my mind and Library Wars managed to do the impossible and be even better than Mixed Vegetables. I caught up with the authors for three series (Anita Blake, Sookie Stackhouse, and Harry Dresden), including their various short stories, and now have to wait for new publications. I only re-read two books – Mostly Harmless and Around the World in 80 Days – until the end of the year when I did my typical pre-movie Harry Potter re-read.

The majority of my reading outside of those three series has been either Young Adult fantasy or non-fiction and memoirs. I find that an interesting dichotomy. My favorite of the latter was Cities of Gold, one of the trio of Spanish Colonialism books I read. The most all-consuming YA books were the Hunger Games trilogy. I still spend every night with thoughts of those characters and events occupying my thoughts as I fall asleep.

I only skipped a single month’s title for book club this year, which I think is a record. I put the book club selections in italics (exception is Holes which was a selection the year before I joined) just to see how they space out through the year. I’m trying to pick a favorite of those and can’t narrow it down, which I think is a good thing! The top of the pile is Changed Man, Kim, Cannery Row, and Babbit. Ooh, I never noticed that only one of those is a modern selection; the rest are all Classics! Well, they’re Classics for a reason I guess.

My reading resolution last year was to read more books that are already on my shelf, already in my collection. I failed. Only about a half-dozen were books that had been sitting around, waiting to be read. About the same number were books I bought to be read immediately or were re-reads. Clearly I need to cull the stuff I haven’t read yet because it’s just not happening. Instead, I got into the habit of immediately requesting books from the library if I read a review of them that I found compelling. About 8 or 10 were based on reviews. Most were varying degrees of hits but These Children Who Come at You with Knives was my second most hated read of the entire year (Blood Lite getting the dubious honor of being the hands-down worst thing I read). I allowed my current read to direct my next read for another handful of titles (for instance I read both Astrid Lingrens because of Dragon Tattoo). I haven’t let that happen in a couple of years and I forgot how pleasant it can be and how many fun surprises it can dig up.

I’m not making a reading resolution this year. I’ve decided to make a sewing resolution instead: Sew More. Or, more specifically, Finish Existing Sewing Projects Before Starting New Ones. We’ll see what happens…


1. Mostly Harmless Douglas Adams
2. Mixed Vegetables, Vol. 5 Ayumi Komura
3. Incubus Dreams Laurell K. Hamilton
4. Around the World in 80 Days Jules Verne
5. Artemis Fowl Eoin Colfer
6. Blood Rites Jim Butcher
7. Micah Laurell K. Hamilton
8. Strange Brew Edited by P.N. Elrod
9. Trouble with Lichen John Wyndham
10. Holes Louis Sachar
11. Danse Macabre Laurell K. Hamilton
12. Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 8 Volume 5 Predators and Prey Joss Whedon
13. And Another Thing… Douglas Adams’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: Part Six of Three Eoin Colfer
14. Mixed Vegetables, Vol. 6 Ayumi Komura
15. The Harlequin Laurell K. Hamilton
16. A Changed Man Francine Prose
17. Must Love Hellhounds Charlaine Harris, Nalini Singh, Ilona Andrews, Meljean Brooks
18. Blood Noir Laurell K. Hamilton
19. Dead Beat Jim Butcher
20. Kim Rudyard Kipling
21. Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files: Welcome to the Jungle Jim Butcher
22. Farscape Uncharted Tales: D’Argo’s Lament Keith R.A. DeCandido
23. Proven Guilty Jim Butcher
24. Skin Trade Laurell K. Hamilton
25. Farscape: The Beginning of the End of the Beginning Keith R.A. DeCandido
26. White Night Jim Butcher
27. Farscape Strange Detractors Keith R.A. DeCandido
28. Small Favor Jim Butcher
29. My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon Edited by P.N. Elrod
30. Year of Wonders Geraldine Brooks
31. Backup Jim Butcher
32. Flirt Laurell K. Hamilton
33. Turn Coat Jim Butcher
34. Mean Streets Jim Butcher, Simon R. Green, Kat Richardson, Thomas E. Sniegoski
35. Bite Me Christopher Moore
36. Changes Jim Butcher
37. Dead in the Family Charlaine Harris
38. The Horror Writers Association Presents Blood Lite: An Anthology of Humorous Horror Stories Edited by Kevin J. Anderson
39. Mixed Vegetables, Vol. 7 Ayumi Komura
40. Cannery Row John Steinbeck
41. Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 8 Volume 6 Retreat Jane Espenson
42. Crimes by Moonlight: Mysteries from the Dark Side Edited by Charlaine Harris
43. Highlander: An Evening at Joe’s Edited by Gillian Horvath
44. Bullet Laurell K. Hamilton
45. Bitter Grounds Sandra Benítez
46. A Voyage Long and Strange: Rediscovering the New World Tony Horwitz
47. Farscape: Gone and Back Keith R. A. DeCandido
48. B is for Beer Tom Robbins
49. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Stieg Larsson
50. Ivanhoe Sir Walter Scott
51. Star Wars Infinities: A New Hope Chris Warner
52. Pippi Longstocking Astrid Lindgren
53. Superman: Red Son Mark Millar
54. Cities of Gold: A Journey Across the American Southwest Douglas Preston
55. Bill Bergson, Master Detective Astrid Lindgren
56. Mixed Vegetables, Vol. 8 Ayumi Komura
57. Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women’s Prison Piper Kerman
58. Library Wars: Love & War, Vol. 1 Hiro Arikawa & Kiiro Yumi
59. Because of Winn-Dixie Kate DiCamillo
60. Nim’s Island Wendy Orr
61. Cities of Gold: A Novel of the Ancient and Modern Southwest William K. Hartmann
62. One Day David Nicholls
63. Dark and Stormy Knights Edited by P.N. Elrod
64. Keys to the Repository Melissa de la Cruz
65. The Freddy Anniversary Collection Walter R. Brooks
66. The Windows of Brimnes Bill Holm
67. These Children Who Come at You with Knives Jim Knipfel
68. Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files Storm Front Vol. 1 Mark Powers
69. The Hunt for Red October Tom Clancy
70. Library Wars: Love & War, Vol. 2 Hiro Arikawa & Kiiro Yumi
71. Death’s Excellent Vacation Edited by Charlaine Harris and Toni L.P. Kelner
72. Rules of Engagement Peter Morwood
73. Babbitt Sinclair Lewis
74. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix JK Rowling
75. Side Jobs: Stories from the Dresden Files Jim Butcher
76. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince JK Rowling
77. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows JK Rowling
78. The Hunger Games Suzanne Collins
79. Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food Anthony Bourdain
80. Nightshade Laurell K. Hamilton
81. Firelight Sophie Jordan
82. Catching Fire Suzanne Collins
83. Gunn’s Golden Rules: Life’s Little Lessons for Making it Work Tim Gunn
84. The Tower, the Zoo, and the Tortoise Julia Stuart
85. Misguided Angel Melissa de la Cruz
86. Mockingjay Suzanne Collins
87. Star Wars: Tag and Bink Were Here Kevin Rubio

This Week in Menace

We’ve been re-crib training Ronnie the past week. She’s been refusing to go to bed at night. I’m not really sure what happened. Mr. b thinks our Thanksgiving travels “broke” her. I admit, the timing is suspect, but I don’t know that staying at her great-aunt’s house is the actual culprit. Still, it has sucked since we got back. First she would go to sleep quite quickly in one of our laps while we were watching TV, so it didn’t really strike us as any big deal. But then we realized we were totally getting played. Still, if you put her into her crib, she’d stiffen and stand up and start screaming. And that’s hardly fair to her brother who has to actually go to school and learn and stuff.

Back to crib-training methodology. Since late last week I’ve refused to bring Ronnie out of their bedroom, instead holding her while sitting on the edge of Brother’s bed. She’ll quiet down right away but then stiffen and stand and scream when I set her down again. Thankfully Kirk seems to be able to fall asleep during this circus. Some nights it has taken over an hour of letting her cry for five minutes, hold for five minutes, cry for five minutes, before she’ll fall asleep in my arms and I have to carefully lay her down lest she wake up and start the whole process over again. Sunday night it was taking so many trips into their room that I caved and brought her into the living room to sit with us. And she got all rowdy, having “won”. We ended up bringing her to bed with us and all had a fitful night’s sleep. I think she knows she lost the war though. Monday night she still fought but last night I only went in there once before she fell asleep. We’ll see if this keeps up or if it’s only a lull.

I’m not sure if this is a reversion signaling a new development or not. She gets into everything. Not just the usual menacing that we’ve been dealing with. We have child-proofed cabinets and drawers but Mr. b has resorted to taping the refrigerator closed. Otherwise she’s always in there, helping herself or bringing us sandwich meat or pickle jars, demanding that we get her some of whatever she’s carrying. He told me he just taped shut the craft drawer that contains the crayons as well. We hardly have any crayons left; she chews them all into nothing.

I think this new round of destruction actually coincides with her burgeoning language skills. My dear friends Hot Stuff and Keith Moon are adopting an adorable little man from China. He’s just a couple of weeks older than Veronica and I told them they should learn her vocabulary in Chinese so they have a starting point with communication. Of course he’ll have a toddler accent so maybe that won’t help anyways... Here’s Miss Ron-Ronica’s list of current words – keeping in mind that “current” means two weeks ago when I compiled this list. She’s already got new ones and keeps adding something nearly everyday. Context is clearly everything.

No
No – Nose
No – Snow
Dek – Yes
Mine
Mama
Daddio
Bubba – Brother
Biss – Please
Hi
Bye
Go
This
Ow
Uh-oh
Ball
Bus
Bess – Mess
Bat – Bath
Poohn – Spoon
Knee
Eye
Sss – Juice
Oose – Shoes
Baby
Baby – Blankie
Nake – Snake
Ut – Hook
Hot
Butt
Buht – Book

Nightshade

My friend Peachy Keen discovered that Laurell K. Hamilton wrote a Star Trek novel! Naturally we were aghast and titillated, imagining vampire sex orgies on the Enterprise. Since she doesn’t have decent library access, I was tasked with tracking down a copy of Nightshade (Star Trek The Next Generation No 24).

Nightshade takes place largely on planet Oriana where Picard, Troi, and Worf make up the ambassadorial team sent to help end a 200 year civil war. The fighting has so thoroughly destroyed the planet the opposing forces are willing to meet for peace talks simply because their self-annihilation is imminent. Naturally Picard gets accused of murder and Worf has to take over as Federation Ambassador. The B story takes place on an alien vessel where the Enterprise has been called on a rescue mission. Geordi, Crusher, and Data are working to repair the damage and save the crew.

At first, I found myself paying far closer attention to the writing style than the story itself. I was fascinated with trying to get a glimpse of Anita Blake in the text of this book published in 1992, a full year before Guilty Pleasures came out. This novel switched perspective too many times for my taste. Certain of the characters were much weaker but thankfully Troi, Geordi, and Worf were written very well. Perhaps because they got the most “screentime”. Troi in particular was fully formed right from the start. Hamilton is always great at showing how being so short and small affect Anita’s view of the world and that came through for Deanna. I never particularly connected with that character on the show but here she seemed much more than a drinking game “I can sense his anger, Captain” joke. Hamilton also excels at describing what altered states look and feel like and how various powers affect the users and those around them. Again, this seemed perfectly suited to Troi and her Betazed empath abilities. I thoroughly enjoyed all the passages where she was sensing the emotions of those around her, whereas that shit bugged hard on the show. Unexpectedly, the ability to clearly show other mindsets worked well for Worf and Geordi as well. Worf’s Klingon-ness and Geordi’s VISOR sight were relevant in ways I would not have expected but they were absolutely perfect for the story.

I did find some of the Trekkie jargon to be jarring. It was as though Hamilton was given a dossier and checked off character and episode references as she worked them into the narrative. I suppose it might have been some sort of fan-service but knowing that this was an actual novel-for-hire project makes the check list scenario more likely. And the alien names were definitely unwieldy. I glossed over “Orianian” because it just never flowed off my mental tongue. Some of the alien character names too were just silly. But that’s a minor quibble. The biggest Trek issue I had was the heavy-handed moralizing and allegory. But again, that seemed to me like part of the assignment and not any kind of message from the author. And it certainly fits in with Star Trek’s MO from the very start.

There were some very gruesome moments and Hamilton’s panache for gore really served the story well. Without being explicit, she was able to imbue a sense of dread and horror into the places it was most needed.

Hamilton’s ability to write about how characters rely on each other without having to discuss it aloud was also a strength in this story. Because it was underscored throughout by Troi’s and Worf’s relationship. Since the book was published a full year before my beloved “Parallels” even aired, I have to wonder if that was her own decision or part of the franchise mandate to set up the shipping to come. I loved everything about their interactions with each other, their complete trust and reliance on each other, the care and affection they showed each other. Yes, a part of me would have loved to read Incubus Dreams-era Hamilton’s take on a raunchy Troi/Worf sex scene. But I know it was better this way.

Ultimately, Nightshade served to remind me of what Hamilton can do when she actually tries. Oh, the writing wasn’t perfect. She used some of the phrases that drive me nuts in the Anita Blake series (Riker relaxed a muscle he didn’t know he was tensing / Anita let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding) and as I mentioned above, the switching between perspectives was neither successful nor consistent. But it did make me put the new Blake novel Hit List on my library wait queue for when it’s published next year. It should be interesting to see if my opinion of that series changes for having read this foray into sci-fi.

Halloween 2010

It will come as no surprise that Kirk went as Indiana Jones for Halloween this year.


Continuing the apparent new tradition of father-son costumes, Mr. b was Henry Jones Senior.


They looked great!


Ronnie was not happy about being a Sith baby, which is weird because she was loving the cloak as I was trying to put finishing touches on it earlier in the day. She'd try to grab it out of my hand and shout "Mine!"


I went as a Doctor Who character, River Song, which of course no one recognized, as expected. It was fun playing with spongey rollers and ringlets in preparation.



I think it turned out great!


Once again my sister and A2 and A3 joined us and we all had a great time trick-or-treating.

The Hunt for Red October

The Hunt for Red October is possibly the most successful book-to-screen adaptation I’ve ever witnessed, and it is precisely because of the myriad changes from the page that make it work so well.

Anybody that knows me knows I’m a big fan of reading books that I know have or will have movie versions made. I delight in anticipating the changes that will have to take place to move the action along, predicting which characters will be condensed or eliminated, guessing which sections of dialogue will be lifted wholly from the source. Usually I like to read the book first. Not because of some high-brow “the book is always better” attitude but just because I like playing the mental script-writing game so well. Sometimes it’s hard for me to concentrate on the page if I know the movie version particularly well, like when I read Auntie Mame, after having watched the movie probably at least 50 times from the point where I discovered it in junior high.

I think the first time I really relished the difference between the book and film was with Howard’s End. I saw the Merchant Ivory adaptation first and then read the EM Forster book. I was enchanted with how the story came alive in front of me on the page. Over the years I’ve sought out many kinds of adaptations, successful and wretched, and enjoyed comparing them to the source. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping an open mind when things are wildly changed for the screen. As disappointing as it was to not see the super soldier suits, Starship Troopers got the world right; the feel for the politics and the military was spot on. The only one in recent memory that was a complete and utter failure was League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

Which brings me back to Sean Connery. I think Marko Ramius is one of his best roles. It seems like he’s playing it over the top and yet there are moments where the character is just so real it’s palpable. His shock when he receives the morse code message – he quickly closes the periscope and you can see his thoughts flying through his head as he processes what he just read and how he will react. It’s spectacular. I also think that Alec Baldwin’s is the best of the movie Jack Ryans. He nails the out of his depth manner while still proving competent and capable.

There are certain character short cuts that the movie took for the two leads. I liked that Ryan was made into a Ramius expert. It worked better to have him be confident about the defection specifically because of his knowledge of the man. I also liked how we got to see Ramius’ amazing captaining skills, instead of just being told about them second-hand. It was very exciting to be onboard Red October, in the sea trench, evading their own navy’s torpedo.

And yet the expanded story in the book works just as well. Clancy details how the intelligence is gathered and processed and analyzed and I got a real sense of the actual pace. We get to spend much more time in Ramius’ head and learn details about his past and his motivation for defecting that of necessity had to be put into shorthand for the movie. I loved the moving of all the chess pieces into place in the Atlantic – on both sides of the Cold War. It gave a very full picture of just how unusual the Soviet fleet deployment was, how the US and UK countered the movements, and how both sides used the interactions as a chance to mess with each other, coming up just this side of actually starting a firing war, while still showing off what they were capable of. There were so many small tales that all fit into the big picture. But you’d never be able to include that in a movie and it was smart to concatenate it. To eliminate the British carrier entirely. To eliminate the other US submarine entirely. To eliminate the other Soviet submarine entirely. And especially to change around Skip Tyler’s role so that it included the rescue sub.

The movie expanded on the story in as many wonderful ways as it streamlined it. I loved Sam Neill’s XO and his desire to live in Montana. That small bit of humanizing made his character so much more real than he had been in the book. The aforementioned time spent running the trench past Thor’s Twins. Giving Jonesy an ensign to teach and thereby download sonar exposition to the audience while still keeping things tense and exciting.

I find myself unable to pick which version I liked best, and I think that’s proof of a wonderful adaptation. The movie contained the essence of the story, with all the pacing necessary to an action movie, while the book was able to spend time on detail and still be an intense political thriller. I’ve found myself enthralled with the Ryanverse and intend to read more of Clancy’s books. I doubt any of the subsequent film versions will be as successful as this first one. I certainly don’t remember any of them being something I needed to see more than just the once.

Walter

One week ago today our lives changed. Mr. b and Veronica got in a car accident. He called me from the scene and I could tell from his voice that he was in shock. He claimed they were both fine but that he was sore. But “sore” can mean just about anything. I immediately left for the bus and met them at the hospital. It was the longest bus ride of my life. Just seeing them both made me feel so much better. I held onto Ronnie so tight. She had been such a good girl for her daddy, who was laid up on an ER triage bed, too sore to move around much. Drugs took the edge off and an x-ray showed he didn’t have internal injuries so we were sent home.

The bruises got worse. Ronnie had a fierce one on her shoulder that started to fade right away. But the two on her thighs deepened to a dark purple. I guess it’s proof that the carseat was installed correctly but it was still brutal to see on my sweet bundle. Mr. b’s bruises are still going strong. The one across his stomach from the lap belt was darkest at first, along with his side and upper thigh. But it’s the sash diagonally across his chest that has proven to be the most painful. He is still tender to the touch and his skin is a sickly green color where the seatbelt crossed his torso.

Life can change in an instant. Every time I hold Ronnie, I find myself thinking that it’s precious time that could have been taken from me. Even when she’s being brutal and hitting me in the head, pulling my hair, ripping my nose ring out, I’m just so glad to have her here. Yesterday was our 13th wedding anniversary and it took on increased importance to me because I nearly didn’t get to celebrate.

But the bureaucracy of life is already doing its damnedest to diminish the lucky and blessed feeling. We still don’t have a car. We have a loaner pick-up from my dad but it’s unwieldy and just a poor fit for us and our lifestyle. Our insurance will cover the medical bills and the car loan but then what? We won’t have a trade-in vehicle and we won’t have a down payment and we only have one full-time salary. I miss Walter. Ensign Walter Pontiac bravely gave his life to save my family. RIP.

Morning

I think we’ll settle into a new getting-ready-in-the-morning routine pretty quickly. So far it seems to be that I’ll get Ronnie out of bed and change her pants while Mr. b is making Kirk’s lunch. Ronnie wakes up as soon as I open the bedroom door but Kirk wants to lay in bed and pretend he can avoid getting up. At first I thought that I’d eat breakfast with them but my appetite has completely changed since having the second baby. I’ve been eating breakfast at work because I’m just not interested in food for an hour or so after I get up. That’s radically different from how I’ve been my entire life previously. Kirk so far doesn’t seem very hungry either but it’s hard to guess how much of that is just dragging his feet and how much is for real. Either way, he has to eat because I’m not sending my kid to school on an empty stomach.

I leave for my bus stop about 15 or 20 minutes before Kirk has to be at his so I’m not part of actually getting them out the door. But already I feel like I get to spend more time with my family. I have less of that sadness of not being able to see my kids, particularly Ronnie, as much as I’d like. I hadn’t realized that the pain in the ass of getting the kids up and off to daycare at least gave me a half hour with them I wasn’t getting with me sneaking off before anybody was even up for the day. Yeah, it’s not much but it’s something and I like getting to snuggle my sweet bundle for a minute before starting my day.

First Day

I find myself grinning as I walk down the hall. My son is at kindergarten! I keep wondering what he’s doing right at this moment. Did he put his lunch bag into the basket and get a clothespin with his name on it clipped to the handle? I bet he totally forgot and left it in his backpack. But he’s got his lunch with so he’ll figure it out. Will they go down to the lunchroom to eat? I guess because some of the kids will buy hot lunch. Kirk’s got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, some carrots, a box of raisins, a granola bar, a cookie, and a juice box. Yes, that’s too much food for one kid. But it’s all stuff he likes and he can pick how many things he’s going to eat. Hopefully he understands he can just bring home the rest.

I’ve said hopefully he ______ a lot the past week.

The bus stop went well. We rushed out of the house, entire family heading the block and a half to his assigned corner. I wouldn’t say that Kirk was excited but he wasn’t terrified either. We’d been talking about school and busing for quite some time now so it’s not like it was a surprise. I guess I’d say he was resigned to his fate. And he was the first one on! Maybe he just wanted to get it over with? He took a seat nearly at the back of the bus and then waved to us out the window.

Then Mr. b and Ronnie and I raced home and hopped in the car. Mr. b drove like a bat outta hell, totally freaked that the bus was going to get to school before us. I think Kirk’s is the last stop on the route. We caught up with it no problem, and pulled into the school lot at the same time the bus was turning around to get into drop-off position. So we were able to watch Kirk actually get off the bus. I’m not sure what he thought when he saw us standing there. He walked inside on his own though and we hung back. Supposedly there were going to be PTO helpers holding balloons so the kids could get assistance finding their classrooms. Not a balloon in sight. We watched Kirk wander down the hall and then slowly went inside after him.

We caught up to Kirk when he happened to be almost to his classroom, still on his own. He said he remembered the directions the principal gave us at open house last week! And when we dropped off his remaining paperwork in the office, we discovered the balloon helpers were only at the front door for the parental drop-offs. That makes zero sense to me. We lurked about in the halls, waiting for the bell to ring. Kirk quietly sat in line outside his classroom door, along with all the other kids in his class. We peeked around the corner at him several times and he was stoic and slightly bored looking.

I put a note in his pocket with his bus number on it. Apparently the teachers take the kids down to their buses at the end of the day but still. He needs to remember which one is his and get on the right one. Mr. b and Ronnie will be there to meet him when he gets off. I can’t wait to get home and hear all about his day.

Conquistadores

Recently I’ve found myself obsessed with learning about the Spanish exploration of America. As a holder of an Anthropology BA and former professional archaeologist, I like to think of myself as reasonably well rounded in my Western Hemisphere history. Obviously I know the broad strokes of the conquest of the Aztecs and the Incas and it’s really colored my impression of the Spanish. I hated them. For breaking so many truly amazing civilizations with their stupid Catholicism and never-ending quest for gold. Fuck the Spanish! You could get me to go off on the Spanish at the drop of a hat.

But as I’ve gotten older I’ve seen the other side of the argument. The one that remembers that to the Spanish of the time, the empires they destroyed were EVIL. It’s hard to think of another religion that indulged in as much institutionalized human sacrifice as the Aztecs. And the Mexica had themselves conquered the previous empire as had those that came before as had those that came before. It was not a long-lived regime. The Mayan empire was already in collapse long before Tenochtitlan was even built.

The start of my new conquistador fixation came from reading Tony Horwitz’s A Voyage Long and Strange: Rediscovering the New World. I’ve read all of his books and love how he mixes travelogue with historical information. In this one, he visits the sites of all the pre-Pilgrim explorations into America, starting with the Vikings in Newfoundland. It was reading the chapters on the various Spanish expeditions, such as De Soto in Georgia, that I learned about the Black Legend of the Spanish. The slanderous one that said that *all* the Spaniards did was torture and maim and rape and burn alive and enslave and desecrate. Oh sure, that happened. A lot. Especially in Peru. But that was more the minority than I had in my head. As I kept reading I found myself thoroughly engrossed by the chapters about the American Southwest. Specifically about Cabeza de Vaca and about Coronado. Horwitz had two books in the suggested reading that caught my eye, both called Cities of Gold.

Cabeza de Vaca was one of four ultimate survivors of a shipwreck on the Gulf coast of Florida in 1527. Originally a large number of the crew survived, made rafts, and made their way to Texas. There, separated from the others now lost at sea, their raft and one other shipwrecked again, on Galveston Island, where they were enslaved by the Indians. Cabeza de Vaca, Dorantes, his slave Esteban, and Castillo escaped, and then wandered their way back west and south to Spanish territories. Wandered for years. Upon their return, they were heralded not only for the extraordinary tale of their survival but also for bringing back news of an even greater empire to the north. This empire was what Coronado then attempted to locate and annex for the Kingdom of Spain.

I’ve previously read a couple of books by Douglas Preston but they were both fiction. Cities of Gold: A Journey Across the American Southwest was non-fiction. Preston moved to New Mexico from the east coast, got interested in the Spanish explanation, and in the late 1980s, decided to go check it out for himself. So the author and his weirdo artist buddy actually retraced a section of Coronado’s route, from the Mexico/Arizona border to Pecos, on horseback. Very intrepid. He gave lots of great historical information – cowboy, Spanish, and Native – in between the amazing tale of his adventure. I actually would have liked to learn more about the Spanish themselves but the book was truly fascinating and it was great getting such a grab bag of historical anecdotes related to each point along the trail. Preston has a very engaging voice and struck just the right tone when bringing up sensitive issues, with land use or Indians or whatever.

The fabled Seven Cities of Gold turned out to be Zuni Pueblo, then called Cíbola. Vázquez de Coronado had been following a route scouted for him the year before, 1539, by a Franciscan friar from Nice, Fray Marcos de Niza. Marcos didn’t actually make it all the way to Cíbola. And he himself had been following behind none other than Cabeza de Vaca’s fellow survivor, the black Moor Esteban. Esteban was killed and Marcos turned around within sight of the pueblo to report back that it existed and was just as awesome as described by Indians. Ever since, there’s been non-stop controversy. The lush route Marcos described was not what Coronado’s army encountered. And the city was hardly the rich capital he had been promised. Coronado had invested much of his personal wealth, not to mention all of his political clout, in this mission and wasn’t about to go back to Mexico City empty handed. He continued his expedition all the way into Kansas, still chasing after a prize worth the effort of his army’s travels.

Currently I’m reading Cities of Gold: A Novel of the Ancient and Modern Southwest by William K. Hartmann. As the subtitle implies, it’s fiction and Hartmann switches between a modern narrator and historical narrative. The first person narrator in 1998 is telling the story about his own past as an urban planner in Tucson in the late 1980s. He’s caught up in the mystery of attempting to unravel the motivation behind Fray Marcos’ supposed deception in his reports back to New Spain about the Seven Cities of Cíbola. The historical chapters follow Marcos on his mission to both scout a route to the fabled Cities as well as report back to the viceroy on the location of the west coast. The author is obviously sympathetic to the Franciscan, finding his reputation as a liar and fraud undeserving. Thankfully it doesn’t come across as heavy handed by using the device of having the narrator believe that Marcos was wronged. And it’s definitely an engaging tale. I am very curious to see how the ultimate descriptive discrepancy is explained away in the end. Hartmann has quoted a lot of primary sources from the 1500s and onward the narrative which help to accentuate the changing opinions of scholars from many eras. I do find it a bit jarring each time the perspective switches and yet I am engaged with both the modern and ancient stories.

Unfortunately, Esteban himself never wrote down any account of his travels. He was killed before Marcos managed to catch up to him on their scouting trip so yet another mystery remains unsolved regarding just exactly what happened. I find it poetic irony that the first “European” to explore into the future US was an African slave. Esteban was said to be quite the dandy and was definitely a hit with the ladies. He had been the main translator for Cabeza de Vaca’s group. They survived their wanderings by becoming, essentially, rock stars. They were considered great healers and developed a literal following. Hundreds of people roamed with them as they made their way across the continent. The four survivors became quite sympathetic to the Indians’ way of life and were horrified when their followers were captured as they entered Spanish territory. Cabeza de Vaca wrote a detailed account of their experience which I intend to read as I continue my exploration of Spanish exploration.

The other one I would like to read was written by Pedro de Castaneda. He was one of the soldiers in Coronado’s army and wrote an account of the exploration after the fact. It came to be considered a key anthropological record of the native peoples they encountered. Castaneda went beyond just a sympathy to the Indians and instead developed what is now called cultural relativity when describing differences of customs and practices. His is often the only record of Pre-Colombian life as many of the tribes and cities and villages were wiped out thanks to the germs that came along with the Spaniards. When later settlement took place en masse, there were vast empty spaces where there once lived flourishing peoples.

Biking Battles

No, do. Or do not. There is no try.
--Yoda

Unless you’re a five year old, then there is most certainly try. Kirk was grounded all weekend. Grounded from television and movies, grounded from video games, grounded from Star Wars. And he lost his blankie. His infraction? Refusal to try.

We bought Kirk a new big boy bike with training wheels for his 5th birthday. He was so excited about it; he rode it all over the store as we secretly picked out other presents and passed them back and forth behind his back. We brought it home and he rode it all over the neighborhood with his daddy and around the block on a walk with his mama and sister. And then he stopped. For some reason he got scared of it and we can’t figure it out. “I don’t know how.” So we told him he had to ride it every single night so he could learn and practice. But even then he’d freak out. “I can’t.” Both of us lost our tempers on several occasions.

I decided to try getting him used to the bike slowly. We explored how it rocks between the training wheels and how that lessens when he sits on it and his weight lowers them. We explored how the front and back brakes grab the front and back wheels. We explored how far you can turn the handle bars to the right and the left and how it will make the bike tip over if you go too far. We even explored standing on the front pegs while I anchored the bike. Kirk will sit on it and cheerfully put his feet on the pedals. But actually pedal the bike? “I can’t.” And then he said, “I quit.”

Mr. b realized that there must be something else going on and did a little bit of online child psychology research. Apparently there are several reasons why a child might refuse to try and the one that seems to make the most sense with Kirk is perfectionism. He’s good at riding his trike. He’s not an expert at riding his bike and doesn’t know all the ins and outs of it yet. So we put too much pressure on him and made it worse, which just sucks and makes us both feel horrible. But we also can’t let him win and had to figure out a way for him to earn back his privileges without making him ride the damn bike. So he had to try new food.

Trying new foods has always been a battle with Kirk. ALWAYS. It’s ridiculous how often we fight over him eating, or rather not eating. But this time it’s like he knew that this was the best compromise for all parties. Sunday supper, he ate a half a hamburger for the first time ever and had an entire ear of corn. And got his blankie and TV and video games and Star Wars back.

Now, thinking back on it, we’ve had this same issue with bikes before. When Kirk switched from the little sit-down scooter thingie to the Thomas big wheel, he was extremely reticent to learn how to pedal. I remember being so frustrated as he scooted with his feet instead of pedaling. And then when he switched from the big wheel to the tricycle it was the same thing. He was so good at the low to the ground pedaling and suddenly being upright on a trike was a major change. He liked the concept of the trike but was hesitant and rarely used it. Which drove me nuts. So I guess this isn’t new behavior. I just need to remember it for when the time comes to take the training wheels off. Hooboy that’s going to be tough.

Melancholy Musings

Sometime around 15 years ago my dad had a tumor removed. It had been growing inside his sinus cavity and was the size of a grapefruit. It was benign. But it was so weird and fucked up that the surgeon requested to have students and other staff witness the operation and went on to write a paper about it. I’m sure the tumor itself resides in a jar somewhere.

On Friday I noticed a strange solid lump under my nostril, deep within my lip tissue. Naturally I immediately went to the paranoid place and thought of my dad’s tumor. Yesterday the doctor assured me it was either another staph outbreak or, more likely, a zit or cold sore type thing that is simply too deep to actually erupt. That would certainly explain the swollen feeling. He called it a furuncle, wrote me up a prescription, and I at least psychologically feel better.

Over the weekend I found myself thinking about my own untimely demise. After the sudden death of a coworker this year I find myself less and less afraid of death itself, which has always been too horrifying for me to even contemplate. It still quickens my pulse to think about too realistically but I’ve come to realize that I won’t actually care when it happens. It’ll be those that are left behind that matter. And that’s made me worry about being remembered by my children.

Luke Skywalker asks Princess Leia if she remembers her mother. She claims that yes, she does. Now obviously, if she means Padme, this is a bunch of bullshit. I can retcon/fanwank it that hey, she’s probably teaming with the Force, too, and so maybe she actually does have a vague recollection of that one image of her mother’s face, minutes after being born. But that’s seems like crossing into Dune territory and Leia is no Alia. It’s far more likely that Leia is talking about her adopted mother, Bail Organa’s wife, who apparently must have died when Leia was still quite young. Now the fact that Luke knows he’s adopted and Leia seems to be unaware is a separate issue that I’ve also spent far too much time pondering.

Kirk is five. He remembers things that I don’t remember. He brings up incidents in his past that once he’s jogged my memory I can recall but I never would have given them a second thought if he hadn’t called attention to them. What about Veronica? She’s 16 months. Even if she was teaming with the Force, would she remember more than a vague impression?

Ronnie and I have been missing each other a lot lately. We somehow came to the mutual realization that we really don’t spend all that much time together. I get home from work, we have dinner, we go for a walk or play outside, then it’s bath, jammies, bottle, bed. I see her only for a couple of hours every day. That’s not enough time and yet I don’t know how to make it more. We’ve spent some long weekends together recently and that’s helped. But I still long for her and she still immediately defers to me once I come home, no matter how much she loves spending the day with her daddy. What would happen to her if she grew up without a mother?

I’ve been keeping this blog since I found out I was pregnant with Kirk, nearly 6 years ago now. In some ways I consider it a text for his future, a record of his early years that’s almost certainly filled with too much information. I don’t think the same can be said for his sister. I write less and less often of late and though I try to give equal time to both kids, there’s just no way to include as much detail about Ronnie because she’s younger and she’s not an only child. She has to deal with being the second kid in so many ways. I haven’t written word one in her baby book. We haven’t gotten portraits of her to send to all her extended family. She has virtually no toys of her own, playing instead with cars and action figures that her brother already acquired. I know she’ll never know any different and so won’t have an issue with that. I know she’ll come into her own with language development and we will get her separate things as she gets older. But will she have a record of what her mama thought? I hope so. I hope she’ll be able to ask me directly. If not, I hope she’ll have as many years of blog entries as her brother. And yet I feel like I’m just about ready to retire this whole blog endeavor. What comes next?