Sunshine, rainbows, and Pollyannas

Do you ever place this game?

I never thought I would get married.

I never thought I would be ridiculously, stupidly, happily married.

I never thought I would be happy living in a big(ish) city.

I never thought, once I got married, I'd be able to convince the man I married that we should have a cat in our home.

I never thought I would be the fat one in my relationship.

I never thought I would feel such extreme honor to be chosen as a godparent for a child.

I was starting to think the Lions would never win again. (Sorry Washington, but I'm glad it finally happened!)

I never thought I would be one of those people who rides their bikes to work and gets frustrated when she has to drive in the car at all.

I never thought that TJC would still be living at home with her parents.

I never thought that my bestest friend would really marry that loser, really have a baby with him, and then really go through with the divorce.

I never thought I'd be happy to talk to my father on the phone.

I never thought I would look forward to seeing my students every class period.

I never thought that I would be the optimistic one in a relationship.

I never thought I could be this happy.

****************
It's true. Our lives are in turmoil right now. So much is changing. So much is up in the air. When I look in the future, I can't see anything except me holding my husband's hand in one of my hands and holding a dog leash in the other.

There was a time when this uncertainty would have killed me. Made me miserable every second of the day.

But now. Now it is different. Every day is a miracle. (Oh, my god, I think I just threw up a little.) Every good night kiss eases the tension. Every time the cat runs between my legs, scares the bejeebies out of me, and makes me drop (and break!) the plate, it makes me laugh. Every crisp cool fall morning is a reminder that every day is a new beginning worth having.

Sometimes what I write seems negative or sad or even mean. It isn't how I am. Okay, fine, I am a bit bitchy sometimes (what IS so hard about merging?), but I've been lucky my whole life. Life has a way of making things work out.

So when I get down? When I start to get really annoyed that construction is a nightmare, that my students won't shut up, that our car is kind of ridiculous for driving around the city, for the uncertainty that is the job market, for the uncertainty of our living situation, don't take me seriously.

I'm a happy camper.

45 x 365 #224

224/365 - JC

Glass so thick I thought your nose would fall off, a strange accent courtesy of a family of uneducated laborers, a tendency to pick on those smaller than you, and a dependence on illegal substances before you were old enough to know what illegal meant.

45 x 365 #223

223/365 - JD

You married a man with a troubled past and a family that couldn't be more different from your own. When his brother dropped off an infant he couldn't care for, you never hesitated in adopting and raising her as your own. You are all love.

In His Sights by Kate Brennan

One time, while I was in college, I was riding around in my pickup truck (his name was Truck) with a friend and that annoying Police song Every Breath You Take came on. It was a nice spring day and so we, naturally, had the windows of Truck rolled down. At a red light, I began rambling, somewhat incoherently, about how the song has always creeped me out because, essentially, it is the story of a stalker. I guess people can think it's romantic, but it's really not. The girl dumped you. Move the fuck on. The guy in a car next to Truck was laughing at us. I guess he'd heard the entire conversation.

So I knew that I was going to read this book when I read the epigraph of the book and it read: I'LL BE WATCHING YOU. - The Police

This is a supposedly true story of a woman, clearly from the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, who was stalked by a wealthy ex-boyfriend for years. It's written under a pseudonym because her stalker is still alive and she feels she is still in danger.

It's haunting, it's scary, and I was emotionally ripped about by page 200. I couldn't stop turning the pages, even though I knew that I would never, could never, be satisfied with any ending.

However, there are several puzzling elements to the book. Why the pseudonym? Her stalker clearly knows her name. He knows where she lives. I'm sympathetic to the narrator, but I just don't see what the need is for all the secrecy. Give the stalker a pseudonym if that helps for legal reasons, but what's the point of your own pseudonym? I'm also a bit puzzled at why the author didn't invest in a good surveillance system for at least one of the many homes she lived in to at least attempt documentation of someone breaking in to her home.

Stalking is an awful, scary crime. I have my own stories about stalkers as a result of my years in the domestic violence shelter business and whenever I think about some of the cases, I have to sit down and decompress*. This book does an excellent job of recreating the stress, the fear, and the fear of insanity that comes along with being a victim of a stalker.

In the end, I guess I don't much care how much of the story is accurate, true, or embellished. I only care that if someone who is being stalked or someone who is involved in a dangerous relationship reads this book and it offers them some comfort or help, then book is an okay book in my mind.

Kate Brennan is a tad unlikeable, actually. She's a narcissistic academic and while I can relate to that, it is difficult to feel sympathy for her until pretty late in the game. Oh, your life of research in pretty libraries in Europe is so difficult. You poor thing. Oh, your paper was pretty much loved and adored at your conference? Your life is very difficult. Your childhood was tough? Oh, well, guess what? Life's not a bed of roses for everyone. By refusing to seek help, Brennan made the situation more unbearable than it had to be.

But. And this is a bit but. I get it. I get her. I see wanting to remain independent, being ashamed that you had been incredibly wrong in judging someone's character. I understand the decisions she's made and I think she writes a powerful tale. A tentative four out of five stars.

____________________________________
*One case in particular haunts me. I had a woman on my caseload who was being stalked by an abusive ex-boyfriend. There was tons of documentation by her family, her employer, and the local police, including two incidents during which the stalker ran my client off the road. She received a personal protection order and the incidents of contact escalated.

Eventually I moved on to grad school. I set this client's file in front of my replacement and told this incompetent woman who was to replace me that this was her number one priority.

A year later, a friend sent me an email link for a newspaper story covering a local man who killed his ex-wife and her mother. That man? Was my client's stalker. That client? Had apparently left the country to avoid having to deal with him.

45 x 365 #222

222/365 - KK

You are kind hearted and mean well, but sadly, you are also loud, obnoxious, and self absorbed. I like that our politics agree and I want to like you, but I find it impossible to overlook your failings as a friend and as a co-worker.

Betty Crocker Gluten-Free Yellow Cake Mix

I was suspicious. Really suspicious. How could General Mills make a gluten-free cake mix that was half the price of the other really good GF cake mixes AND tasty? But my husband was so optimistic about it. He and I are sort of meh on the idea of cakes, but shouldn't we have the same options as everyone else?

General Mills has been really good to us. The majority of the Chex line is gluten-free now (as we speak, due to a promotion at our grocery store, we have Chocolate Chex, Cinnamon Chex, Strawberry Chex, Rice Chex, Corn Chex, and Honey Nut Chex in our cupboard) and the boy loves them. He was slow to warm up to Strawberry Chex, but they have definitely grown on him. He likes the Rice and Corn Chex for breakfast and the others for snacks. Cartons of Yoplait yogurts are all marked gluten-free, even flavors that we might have been suspicious of in the past, like strawberry cheesecake.

So we bought a box. The only options in the gluten-free Betty Crocker line at the current time are brownies, chocolate chip cookies, Devil's Food cake, and yellow cake. I feel like I have brownies under control (Bob's Red Mill), chocolate chip cookies (my own special blend of flour), and I wouldn't touch chocolate cake with a ten foot pole, so we went with the yellow cake.

I guess a part of me had forgotten how easy it is to make a cake from a mix. Add mix, eggs, water, and some gluten-free vanilla, mix it for a few minutes in my fancy pants KitchenAid mixer, and then pour the batter into cupcake tins. Seriously, prep (including frosting the things after they had cooled) took about eight minutes. When I'm making cookies, eight minutes is what it takes for me to find all the ingredients I need!!

Yet, I maintained my skepticism during the baking process. The batter was thin and runny and tasted like last week's hummus and the smell coming out of my oven was not encouraging.

However, they baked nicely. I put them in the oven for 20 minutes and they passed the toothpick test with flying colors. I let them cool for a couple of hours (obviously the boy was not home while this was going on or I would have had to frost them IMMEDIATELY). I used Betty Crocker (keeping it in the General Mills family) Rich and Creamy Vanilla.

When the boy came home, we both tried one. They were fabulous. Two thumbs up. Way up.

Tonight at the grocery store we bought another box. Maybe we aren't so meh about cake after all.

45 x 365 #221

221/365 - AS

Of the people I have in my own where are they now category, you are most pressing on my list. Hours on the phone, planning outfits, hairdos, and spinning tales for my parents so I could go out have left an indelible mark on me.

45 x 365 #220

220/365 - PT

You are an enigma. You sometimes seem overshadowed by your extroverted wife, but then, when the chips are down, your badass, solution centered self comes through to make everything better. I fall in love with you a tiny bit. Your kids adore and fear you.

45 x 365 #219

219/365 - TT

I want to be you when I grow up. Your thrice weekly phone chats with your mom are sacred to both of you. Your kids know you're in charge, but tell you everything. You have a certain zest for life I both admire and envy.

It's not all bad

I saw a toy recently that is meant to help kids learn to tie shoes. I was searching for baby stuff because CC and his lovely wife recently had a baby girl. I have purchased this and this and this for the little one, but you know I can't resist poking around for more. I have resisted Baby Gap (this time), but there are a few baptisms coming up in our family.

Anyway, the toy took me back. I was not very good with fine motor skills when I was a child. I read quickly, but writing and learning how to maneuver a pencil was a challenge. Let's not discuss the scissors thing. (Incidentally, I just dropped one of our plates on the floor and as it crashed into a gazillion pieces, my husband could only shake his head and comment on my lack of hand/eye coordination. It hasn't gotten any better.) ANYWAY, I couldn't pass kindergarten until I learned how to tie my shoes. Since I knew everything else - my name, my parents' names, my phone number, my address, my ABCs, my numbers up through 30 - this was a source of great consternation to my parents.

They never said anything to me, but I knew that they were a bit disappointed in me. I could repeat the steps aloud. I could watch them do it a million times. But my fingers just wouldn't make the loops and push those slippery laces through those loops. I was their child, a child they knew was bright, a child they knew could and should move on to first grade. How dare this one thing trip me up? How could I let it trip me up?

There were hours and hours of me and my dad on the couch with a doll (kind of like this, but not really). Mine was a rag doll with yarn for hair. The yarn was yellow and I would attempt a ponytail or braid all by myself. My doll had on blue overalls; one of the straps attached by a regular button and the other by a snap. One shoe had a shoelace and the other had a buckle.

In later years, my father's patience would be tested beyond its limits. There would be countless days I would tiptoe around him, knowing that even the sight of my teenage face would drive him into irrational anger, knowing that I had failed in my daughter duties yet again. But the picture I have in my mind, me at five years old, cuddled with my daddy and my doll on that scratchy brown couch makes me realize that there was a time when that volatile man was not my father. My father was young, energetic, and full of love.

The world defeated him. His health problems, his tattered family, his innate stubbornness, his bad luck with employment, and my own mother's emotional distance all pooled together to turn that tender man into the same man who makes me nervous and anxious and scared.

I am a lot like this man. I am stubborn, my relationships with my immediate family are not great, and my employment situation is normally sketchy at best. But I don't want to be like him in so many ways.

I like to hope that I am a person people generally think of nice. Honest, perhaps to a fault, sensitive, again perhaps to a fault, and genuine. Smart, maybe. Funny, maybe. I like to hope that I will always be the kind of person that my nieces and nephews will remember climbed under the table to play fort with them. Who sat for hours on a couch teaching them to tie a shoe. Who always had time to listen to them. Who was not stubborn, grouchy, or mean.

Let us hope that I never forget that.

45 x 365 #218

218/365 - GS

You're like Conan O'Brien without the self-confidence to go ahead and laugh at yourself. Hilarious, gawky, long limbed, giant coiffure - I really think you could do anything. But you're stuck in a dead end job, unwilling (unable?) to change the life you're comfortable leading.

Waiter Rant by Steve Dublanica

So, yeah, this book rocked my world. I couldn't put it down. I was a fan of The Waiter from his blog, but frankly, this was so much better than what he wrote on that site. I have never worked in a restaurant as I think it's clear to everyone, including myself, that my patience with jackassery is limited and I'd have to deal with it a lot in the food industry.

I loved how he made the mundane, the usual, the day to day, all come clear. I loved that even though I've never been in a restaurant kitchen, I could imagine myself there with all my senses - sight, sounds, tastes, even temperatures. I loved his honesty. He's kind of a smartass and he knows it. Brutally honest in his assessments of his lackluster career path and set in his ways ruts. The insider's view of restaurant life reinforced my impression of difficult, underappreciated jobs and I vowed after reading the first chapter to make sure I'm never one of those dumbass customers he writes about.

Despite my fandom, I do have a few problems with the book. Sometimes the mundane is just the mundane and I don't need to read a dissertation on it. This passage is taken from chapter 8: "With a practiced motion, I jiggle a cigarette halfway out of my soft pack and offer it to him. After he takes it, I return the pack to my pocket, produce a Zippo, and spark up the flame. The harsh smell of lighter fluid hits my nose." Really? All those words to say you lit a cigarette? Somewhat unnecessary since we've all seen a smoker light a cigarette. That passage is somewhat representative of a few times when Dublanica goes off the deep end in his showing and not telling.

However, overall, this was great stuff. I love the rawness and humor and I bet you will, too. I'll be shipping this along to my Bestest Friend soon, but I'll be sad to see it go. Four and a half stars out of five. I'll definitely be back for whatever Dublanica writes next!

45 x 365 #217

217/365 - JS

You took us blueberry picking. You made blueberry pancakes for dinner. You once took me to the store in a blizzard for some throat lozenges. I miss you terribly every day and I'm so sorry I never told you how very much I loved you.

jennifer johnson is sick of being single by Heather McElhatton

Sometimes people ask me what I do all day. The answer is usually that I teach and I read. I read a lot of books. I considered starting a new blog that I could use to write book reviews, but the truth is that I don't actually post enough content on this blog to justify starting an entirely new one, so I'm going to just put them here. I read a lot of trashy literature, but that should not be surprising to anyone who knows me. I'll start by reviewing one of my most recent Barnes and Noble purchases.

jennifer johnson is sick of being single was recommended to me by one of the employees at B&N when I told her that I was going to be going away for the long weekend (Labor Day) and I wanted something light and fluffy to take with me. She recommended this book mostly because I told her I like chick lit, but also because it is written by a local Twin Cities author and it's really fun to read a book and recognize all the localities.

Basically, it's a book about a slightly overweight white-collar girl with tense relationships with family members who meets a guy. Is he the right one for her? How many times can she a make a fool of herself in front of him?

The book is exactly as advertised in its light, fluffy nature. Some of the dialogue is particularly witty and I found myself picturing Rory and Lorelei-like repartee as I read it. (That may have something to do with the number of hours I've been watching season one of Gilmore Girls since I received it as a birthday present.) I laughed out loud, much to my husband's amusement. I want the main character's best gay friend to be my best gay friend. I loved the local references more than I thought I would.

However, it isn't a smash hit for me. The main character is self-absorbed, juvenile, and, frankly, unlikeable. I'm sure some might ding me for this and say that she is just portrayed in an honest manner and perhaps that is true, but I expect bigger things out of my heroine. If I just wanted to read about a neurotic, pissy, narcissistic young professional in Minneapolis, I'd scroll through my blog archives. I want my heroine to make me want to be like her, to be better than I am, to learn from her. This book provided laughs, but it didn't provide me with the self-reflection I want from my fluffy chick lit.

Plus, the ending? I had to reread it like four times to make sure there wasn't a page missing from my copy. Abrupt and incomplete is how it read for me.

So, there you have it. A solid 3 out of 5 stars. The book has its moments and is definitely worth a read, but I'm pretty sure I won't be giving it a permanent place in my limited bookshelf space.

45 x 365 #216

216/365 - BO

At first meeting, you are quiet and unassuming. But it turns out that the quiet shell masks a deep interest in human nature. You ask interesting questions, pointed questions, and learn more about people's inner lives in five minutes than I could in five months.

45 x 365 #215

215/365 - EP

I adore everything about you. Kind heart, kind eyes, big laugh, and welcoming nature. Busy, but always time for a frantic phone call from me. You have the kind of relationship with your daughter I'd like to have with my own mother but never will.

45 x 365 #214

214/365 - WC

While catsitting for your cats, two of the most neurotic animals I've ever met, I realized that you are one of the patient ones. You smile, you nod, you listen as I, another neurotic in your life, ramble on unendingly. Thank you for that.

45 x 365 #213

213/365 - VS

I see my interactions with you through the veil of my father. I only know you because of him and I fear you think that I am like him. Quite possibly you are correct and quite possibly I am embarrassed. Still you are forever kind.

45 x 365 #212

212/365 - SR

We have some common friends. But that's where the similarities end. I have spent hours in your company, even at your house, but I know less about you than I know about the chatty guy who fixes our dishwasher. Enigmatic and mysterious, that is you.

Embarrassing Songs I've Bookmarked on Pandora

I can't defend these choices. I will add no snarky comments (except that I will because I can't help myself). I'd share my current playlist from my media player, but that's even more embarrassing, so this will have to do. I will accept my shame.

1) "Don't Sleep in the Subway" - Petula Clark (frankly the entire Clark oeuvre is marked)
2) "England" - Great Big Sea*
3) "The Leaving of Liverpool" - Gaelic Storm
4) "The Mermaid" - Great Big Sea
5) "Why" - Rascal Flatts (shame, deep shame)
6) "Make Your Own Kind of Music" - The Mamas & The Papas
7) "He Goes to Church" - Cherryholmes**
8) "What I'd Say" - Earl Thomas Conley
9) "Same Old River" - Jeff Black***
10) "Georgia" - The District****
11) "That Was Us" - Tracy Lawrence
12) "When Love is New" - Dolly Parton and Emmy Rossum
13) "It's Getting Better all the Time" - Brooks & Dunn
14) "Ellis Unit One" - Steve Earle
15) "More Like Her" - Miranda Lambert (and I have to admit I just rocked out to "Everybody Dies Famous in a Small Town")

*Have you heard of Great Big Sea? I love this band. How come I didn't know it existed? Thanks Pandora!! If you like fun sea shanties, check this band out. Or even if you don't like them. Because this band is awesome. See the two GBS songs on this list and "Excursion Around the Bay." You won't be disappointed.

**Who/what is this Cherryholmes? I don't know, but this song left quite an impression on me. It's quite sad. Be forewarned.

***Who? What is this song? I don't remember it. But it's on my list!! I must have liked it enough to take note of it.

****Was I sleeping when I marked these songs? What is this?!

45 x 365 #211

211/365 - KK

Close your eyes and picture a Midwestern corn farmer. You are seeing KK in your mind. Carrying a few extra pounds, a farmer's tan, John Deere hat perched on his head, strong belief in God, and a bumper sticker on his pickup declaring his NRA membership.

45 x 365 #210

210/365 - SG

It's stunning, really, your ability to charm and make nice and then immediately turn on the venom and spout out nasty vitriol. Two-faced makes you sound so much kinder than you actually are. I wonder what goes through your mind as you drift off to sleep.