Tuesday, August 23, 2016

The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante

The fourth, and final, book in the Neapolitan series, The Story of the Lost Child came to me at a time when I didn't realize how roiling and chaotic my own thoughts on friendship and family were and sent me into a tailspin of doubt, reconciliation with my own foibles, and a sort of certainty that life is never what you want it to be.

While I've been posting photos of vegetables and my cat, pretending I'm June Cleaver and that everything is just fine, I'm slowly coming unglued. My birthday passed and there was one phone call from a very dear friend (a friend who is lovely and wonderful and seriously kept me from losing everything that night). My husband scheduled a class that evening and I spent my birthday alone on the couch, eating a cupcake I bought for myself, reading this book and sobbing. No phone calls from a couple of people for whom I thought that I would be important enough to remember. No presents from my husband to open. No celebration dinner.  It's not that I'm an adult who thinks people should remember my birthday. I'm really not. I don't expect it be remembered by the vast majority of other people, but there are other people whose birthdays I make a fuss over, and it was painful to sit on the couch and realize that I wasn't important enough for them to remember me. 

And then.

Then I realized that I have already had this epiphany. No one gives a shit but me and that's okay. I need to fucking deal with it. If I want to hear from my mother ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DAY OF MY BIRTH, I am going to be the one to call. If I want my husband to buy me a cupcake and give me presents on the actual day of my birthday, I need to tell him so in advance. If I want something, I need to say it.  People have their own lives and their own concerns and I understand that I'm not that priority.  But it hurts.  And I hate that it hurts. I hate that I care and that I'm mad at people who don't care and don't know and it all feels sort of passive aggressive and even my husband who hears 99.9% of my thoughts has no idea how upset I was and still am and OH MY GOD WHY AM I NOT ON MEDICATION to sort all this out?

"Every intense relationship between human beings is full of traps, and if you want it to endure you have to learn to avoid them." (page 451 of paperback Europa edition)

This book captures so many of the rises and falls in enduring relationships.  The mother/daughter pairs, some strong, some rancorous, some so frayed you wonder if there actually was ever a physical bond; the friendships of women who have been friends since girlhoods, friendships that wax and wane as the stages of life align or separate; the romantic entanglements of the young and the old, what makes the relationships start and stop and sputter like a lawnmower engine, and how the moments of love told are always the beginning and the end, while the mushy middle is as lost to time as a series of daily normalcies that are long forgotten; and, of course, the relationship one has with one's own self, at once forgiving and loving and malicious and cruel because there is nothing so harmful as your own words of harsh judgment and excoriating criticism. 

It nearly broke me.

In every relationship, there are landmines you dare not tread. You don't talk about the time when X happened, you don't talk about Trump, you don't talk about religion, you don't talk about that person, you don't talk about the things that matter because you know that the crack is barely cemented together and when you bring it up, there will soon be an entire sinkhole into which your relationship fell.

And there's something so hard about realizing it's your relationship with yourself that's in danger of becoming that sinkhole.  You avoid so many topics in your own mind, you focus on the minutiae of living, and you become someone different, someone you don't recognize and maybe don't even like.

Who is "the lost child" in the title? I think that's an incredibly important question. There's an obvious answer in the plot of the novel, but I tend to think that lost child is really the narrator, who never had a chance to be a carefree young girl and grew into a neurotic mess of a woman.  But then again, why wouldn't I think that?

Monday, August 22, 2016

In Case You're Hiring

Zelda Marie Gimbalsh Cat
zellybeaner@catmail.org -- Kitty Kondo in the Window -- Nowhere, Wisconsin 
Skills:
Extreme fuzziness
Lowering blood pressure in humans
Cuteness
Finding bugs
Sleeping in various locations, in various positions, for various lengths of time
Improving mental health of humans, especially girl human
Playing with my toys, especially my brown ball 
Loud, persistent yowling
Finding things on the floor that aren't supposed to be there
Helping humans sleep
Chasing my tail
Creepily staring at humans when they are not paying attention to me
Jumping high on to all types of surfaces
Accepting pets from humans
Prettiest girl in the whole world
Experience:
July 2011 - present - Five years of servitude to two humans, one male and one female, in satisfactory arrangement. I sit by my bowl and demand food and they provide it. I stand by them and paw their legs and they play with me. I jump on their laps and they stop what they are doing to pet me.  I bat their legs and they get up and engage in a mighty game of soccer with me. I am cute and they buy me toys. 
Education:
Kitten school: In July 2011, I stayed at the VHydes with some of my litter mates, some giant cats, and a dog.  Here I learned how to use the litter box, engage in spirited activity with  other creatures, and how not to kill small children.  It was a useful period of time.

Five years of on the job training.The humans I am indentured to still engage in some improper activities, such as brushing me, going into a room without me and closing the door, and putting this stuff on my shoulder blades, but I'm working on training them to be better humans. In the meantime, I cat better than anyone else I know.

Friday, August 19, 2016

2016 CSA Week 10: Tomatillos?

This week brings us lots of goodies:
Tomatillos
Sweet peppers (2)
Lacinato kale
Tomatoes (5)
Onions (2)
Garlic
Jalapeno
Parsley
  • I still have a few tomatoes from last week, so I'll keep eating those whenever I need a snack.
  • I'll eat the peppers and carrots raw with lunch.
  • We are becoming overwhelmed with onions and garlic and I don't think we're the only ones. I'll try to give those away when people visit or I go visit people.
  • We'll use the kale in a frittata, as is the norm.
  • The biggest problem for me this week is definitely the tomatillos. Our farmers recommended roasting them and making salsa verde, but then what do I do with the salsa? Maybe I should buy it and then make tortilla chips out of the leftover tortillas we have from making tacos?  Do I even like salsa verde? 
What would you do with eight tomatillos? 

Thursday, August 18, 2016

But People DO Ask Me What I Eat for Lunch

I get a lot of questions about what I eat for lunch since I don't eat sandwiches and that seems to be a go to thing for a lot of people around midday.  I feel like the following is pretty representative of my lunches which is to say that it's a hodgepodge of what needs to get out of the fridge because a new CSA basket it about to arrive!

I had an appointment from noon until two yesterday and the appointment was about forty-five minutes away, so I had to spend a small bit of time planning my food options for lunch, making sure I could eat it one handed while driving, if necessary. I dug around in the fridge and here was my lunch.
My usual bowlful of CSA vegetables (two tomatoes, a giant carrot, and some dragon's tongue beans), some pretzels (we're big fans of Glutino pretzels if you need gluten-free pretzels) and a 100-calorie pack of Wholly Guacamole, two pickles, and a hunk of cheese.

I don't actually like pickles, but we have a bunch of them and I'm desperately trying to convince myself that I do like them, so I have been eating them with lunch regularly.  We don't usually have cheese, but we had people over for dinner TWICE last week and I always get too much cheese for the cheese and crackers portion of the evening (is this a Wisconsin thing - you do serve cheese and crackers as an appetizer while you finish cooking, don't you?), so we have four kinds of cheese in the fridge right now and it's all taking all of my willpower not to just go eat it all right now.

And that was that.
I had some hot tea in the Powell's thermos and some nectarine-infused water in the water bottle. For the record, the nectarines don't infuse nearly as much flavor as do blueberries and raspberries. It's not my favorite. I cut up the rest of the nectarine for "dessert."

It was all gluten-free and no bread was to be found. If I need a snack to get me through between lunch and dinner, I'll eat some more veggies or maybe have a handful of almonds. 

Dark Night: A True Batman Story by Paul Dini

Glen Wheldon recommended Dark Night: A True Batman Story by Paul Dini (illustrated by Eduardo Risso) on Pop Culture Happy Hour earlier this summer. It's a powerful autobiographic graphic novel in which Dini recounts an attack in which he was mugged and horrifically beaten and then the rest of the novel untangles his physical and emotional recovery.
In the 90s, at the time of the attack that forms the backbone of the book, Dini was a writer for Batman: The Animated Series and the movie Mask of the Phantasm.  I thought that his honesty was brave and compelling in this book. It not only details how traumatic his recovery was, but it was unflinching in Dini's portrayal of his low self-confidence in personal matters and just how his escape into his own imagination impacted his day to day life that really kept my attention. The rawness with which Dini admits to his own failings was painful, but wonderful.  

I also really appreciated this novel for such an intense look into a creative mind. In a recent episode of Slate's Culture Gabfest, the panelists were discussing how you can read biographies or study an artist's or writer's work and still not really understand the artistic process (but where did the art COME FROM?). Their claim was that it was nice to see tangible things that the artists interacted with, like homes and handwritten pages, and that those things help to make the artists more human.  I think that this Dini book, with its deep dive into how imaginative elements are constantly swimming through his thoughts, and with its incredible illustrations to help those of us with less imagination visualize all this, did more to help me understand the thought process of a writing and what's going on in someone's head than any visiting of a house has ever done for me. Maybe because I lack imagination!

It's not an easy read and it's not really a Batman story, but it's important and fascinating and gritty and mendacious and I highly recommend it.

Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Weekend Two In Minneapolis

Weekend one here.

Friday night was not an ideal time to fly from Milwaukee to Minneapolis. It was raining in Milwaukee when we left and that led to a half-hour delay while we sat in the plane and it was raining in Minneapolis which led to endless circling around the Twin Cities.
By the time we landed, I was tired and hungry and instead of doing something, I just checked into my hotel and meandered around Stadium Village to find something to eat.
After some food, I felt much better and went for a walk around campus. I just can't give over how different it is than when I attended. Areas that used to be sort of shady are now condo-filled, there are light rail stations everywhere, and it's just so clean. It's weird.
I walked across the Washington Avenue bridge and was reminded of the many, many times I crossed that bridge, going to classes that I had no business attending, attempting to fit in workouts at the gym, and cycling to my part-time job, a job I still have, albeit in a new city and a new capacity.
 
It's not just the campus area that's changed, though. The Metrodome is no more and has been replaced by a horrendous U. S. Bank Stadium. I don't really want to talk about this horrid building, but I did take to using the Government Plaza light rail station to make my connections, instead of the U. S. Bank Stadium (formerly Metrodome) stop.  

And I feel like those two weekends really did fill a need in my heart for some Minneapolis love.

Monday, August 15, 2016

With Malice by Eileen Cook

With Malice by Eileen Cook is a young adult novel that I picked up from the library based solely on the display of "librarians' picks." It just pleased me that the sign used a correct apostrophe and that the entire array of books was YA offerings I'd never heard of.
Anyway, this book was interesting. Our protagonist wakes up in a hospital after an accident with no memory of the accident that put her there for several weeks (months?) beforehand. We attempt to piece together the timeline from her maybe unreliable flashes of memory, Facebook status updates, news articles, police interviews, and assorted other pieces of evidence. I thought the book was a fast-paced, fun read and I loved the ending.  I mean, I guess this isn't great literature, but if this is what young adult novels look like these days, I need to start haunting the YA new releases shelf at the library!
 
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