Two Years

It wasn't everything I dreamed of. We were doing things in a pseudo-traditional/pseudo-untraditional manner. I wore the dress and you wore the suit, we exchanged rings, and we were married. But no one gave me away (shudder), no one changed their name, and no one expected that Dostoevsky reading from Crime and Punishment. At one point, I saw you sitting out there on the front porch all alone and I wanted nothing more than to be with you at that moment, but others would not let me leave to go to you. I am sorry I left you there. I am sorry you were stressed out about delivering the flowers. I am sorry that these little things left you drained before our day had even really begun.

But it was our day. We publicly declared our love. We cut the cake, we danced, we smiled until our faces hurt, and we didn't murder any of our extended family. It was a success by our measure of success.

That was two years ago. In many ways it seems so long ago. In many ways it seems like yesterday. We got married when things were uncertain. Our path seemed windy and out of control. Sometimes I think it still is uncertain, I think we're still struggling to see past the curve in the road, I think we're idling in one place.

But we're not. And in another two years we're going to look back on this day and realize how far we've come. Until then, we will live this day to day and love this day to day. Because right now I am so happy that I get to come home to you, that you are the one who wakes up beside me, and that we have this time be newly married together.

And then I read some more

Shibumi by Trevanian - This was a recommendation by my office mate. It's the fictional story behind the making of an assassin. Sometimes it is clear when authors do a ton of research for their books and the whole time I was reading the book, I kept thinking that the author would find me to be a shallow, vapid soul. Probably not an incorrect assessment, but an unkind one. I liked this book, but I found it was easy to put aside and read later. The characters were fascinating, but the plot was not compelling. So. I'm glad I read it. But I'm not sure if I'm in for the smugness of Trevanian's writing again.

Dead in the Family by Charlaine Harris - Yep. The latest in the Sookie Stackhouse series. I love Sookie and I love this series. I borrowed it from a friend and had finished it within a day and a half. It's pretty good. I love the story line with her nephew. I wish the books would be less about the politics of the supe community and more about Sookie herself. I almost felt like her talents as a telepath were downplayed in this book for the sake of discussions about vampire tribes, which was disappointing. Sookie is a strong character and she got the shaft in this book. But, it's still a Sookie Stackhouse book and who am I to complain?

There seem to be a lot of complaints the book doesn't really have a plot and I guess...I agree. But episodic bits and pieces of Sookie's life are far more interesting than most books I read, so I don't really think of this criticism as that relevant to me. I just reread the first book in the series and it really focused on how difficult her life is. I wish the books would go there just a bit more, delve into the trouble she gets into by knowing things she just shouldn't know. (Maybe as this storyline with Hunter develops, this will come back to the series.) Stackhouse fans should read it, but...don't expect Hemingway.

The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness - This is the first book of a young adult series set in a dystopian world in which every man's thought is heard by everyone within hearing distance and women...well, that's just part of the mystery of this world. Do you remember that Buffy episode called Earshot where she can hear the thoughts of everyone and she almost goes insane? It's like that. We follow Todd and his dog Manchee as they deal with this environment. I enjoyed this book (fine, I said it, I liked a book that has a male main character). I have the second book on my library list.

Envy and Splendor by Anna Godsbersen - These are the last two books in the Luxe series (book 1 and book 2 here). Good young adult books. Gilded age romance. I am amazed that I read all four of these books because there is NOT ONE sympathetic character in any of the books. Penelope is definitely portrayed as the villain and she is kind of evil; Lina is an ingrate; Elizabeth is...just a jellyfish who makes incredibly bad decisions All Of The Time; and Diana, Diana is so stereotypically a youngest child that I want to pound her on the head. They are all of them self absorbed and ridiculous. But. I love them all. I have no idea how Godsbersen managed to insinuate these characters into my life, but she really has. I bet teenage girls with an interest in history and learning some advanced vocabulary would enjoy these books.

Breaking Free

It is not my story. It is hers.

My story is one of support, of worry, of nightmares not spoken aloud. At least two times a week, I wake up crying, my husband comforting me, and a picture in my head that won't leave.

The story is as old as time. Girl meets boy. Boy is sweet. Boy turns. The girl's family and friends are helpless, hopeless, and oh so scared.

She left him. But the story was not over. It is still not over. There is violence in the stories she still writes, threats she faces each day, and nostalgia for a man who never really was.

I have struggled. Time and again, I have struggled. I want to be her friend. I want to be the one she can count on. Sometimes I am impatient with her decisions, her actions, her feelings. I simultaneously want to validate her feelings and tell her to grow the fuck up. I simultaneously want to encourage her to be herself and be the person he never allowed her to be while she was with him and want to encourage her to act more like how I think I would act. This is my failing as a friend. I am sorry for the times I have been terse, impatient, or judgmental. It is not my place to sit and condemn because there's no way for me to know what I would do in her shoes.

But today she spoke words that made me think she's ready. She's ready to take the next step, the step I have been hoping for since the day she first left him; she's ready to at least acknowledge that she still has work to do in carving out a better life for herself, a life without fear and anxiety.

And even if it doesn't come to pass that she takes this step today or tomorrow or next month (but I hope she will), I am proud of her. I am proud of her for all she does in making it day to day, in dealing with the monster in her life, and not telling me to grow the fuck up when I should be told to do so.

She will break free.

You Know You're Old

It was a routine trip to the mall. At some point in the last month, my makeup bag has gone missing. Crisis. Serious crisis. Girl without makeup crisis.

Situation #1: I bare my soul to the lady at the Benefit counter at Macy's. Makeup bag! Missing! Pretty soon she's cleaning my face, slapping makeup on me, and we're swapping life stories. At the end, she turns me to the mirror and I gasp. Oh, dear lord. I've never worn that much makeup in my life, including my wedding day. Maybe my mistake was in approaching a lady with heavy eye liner and dark eyeshadow on to do my mini makeover.

I quickly tell her that it looks lovely (ummm...no) and buy my four super necessary Benefit items.

Situation #2: My favorite eye primer in the whole wide world (f. y. . . eye) has been discontinued. I may have freaked out. It has been replaced with a product called stay don't stray and I bought it, but I am decidedly not happy that the product I have preached about for so long is gone. I'll give this new primer a chance, but Benefit, you are on notice.

Situation #3: I find myself frequently wondering what the purpose of certain articles of clothing is. Is this a dress? A shirt? A tunic? It's a ridiculous length for a shirt. It's way too short for a dress. I don't get tunics anyway.

Also, those leggings in denim? Who is going to wear those? (Don't answer. I know. I teach at a high school.)

Situation #4: I find myself halfway to a fitting room with fabulous looking clothes only to set them on an endcap and walked out. The music was just way too loud for me. And, did I mention what store I was in? Ann Taylor Loft. I was not at Aeropostale or American Eagle or Forever 21 or any of the usual suspects. I was at Ann Taylor Loft.

The evidence is in. I am an old person.

More Teen Lit

fly on the wall: how one girl saw everything by E. Lockhart - So Lockart is the author of the The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, a book that I loved so much I convinced myself I should borrow every book she has written from the local library. And. Well. I was a smidgen disappointed. The main character is a student at an arts high school in New York (if you know anything about where I work, right now you are laughing as I scream in frustration) and wishes she could be a fly on the wall in the boy's locker room. First, no arts high school will have mandatory gym class. Second, no arts high school would have sports teams. So the whole locker room thing? It is a piece of falsehood that bugged me (no pun intended). Anyway, she gets her wish. And after the first day as a fly, the main character is bored and so was I. It had its moments, but read Frankie instead of this one.

the boy book by E. Lockhart - Another book. Same disappointment. This one was a bit better than fly on the wall by I think I may have started out with Lockhart's best work and now there is only room for me to be disappointed.

The Secret Life of Sparrow Delaney by Suzanne Harper - This book is funny and well written. There's nothing life altering in here, but I was amused. So that's something, isn't it?

Generation Dead by Dan Waters - I started reading this last summer at Bestest Friend's house. I saw it at the library and thought I would like to finish it. And, sadly, the end was not nearly as good as the beginning. It had a great hook and I really enjoyed the characters, but the plot just fell apart at the end. Frankly, it was too much the first book in a series without a stand alone plot line to resolve at the end of novel one. I wasn't crazy about it.

Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald - This is decidedly not teen lit, but straight up children's lit. I read it because it's a classic that I'm sure I should have read. Someone told me that if I enjoyed Sherlock Holmes (and oh, I do), I would like this book. But really, what's to like about a snotty little douchebag? Not much. Don't put this on the list for your kids!

Gone by Lisa McMann - This is the third book in the Wake trilogy. I loved the first two books. I kind of feel like the main character has gone off the whiny deep end in this book. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it the day I read it, but I really thought this was a weak way to end the series. I want to rewrite it. I'll put in on my list of things to do in my life (rewrite end of Wake trilogy, right under learn how to frost a cake without making it look like a four year old did it).

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Random non-teen lit:

e: a novel by Matthew Beaumont - A funny book about office politics told through emails (an epistolary novel - oh yeah - vocabulary fun). I can't help it, but as someone who has spent the better part of the last decade attempting to wade through thousands of emails, attempting to interpret tone, meaning, and innuendo, this cracked me up. It's not groundbreaking, but I looked forward to it in my library pile and it didn't let me down. Entertaining for sure.

Case Studies

She looks like a woman, no matter the year she was born. She's curvy, with breasts and hips most grown women would kill for. She stands out next to all the skinny girls who haven't developed quite as quickly as she has, but she tries to fit in, despite her physical differences. Today it was skinny jeans and a hoodie two sizes too big for her frame. Yesterday it was a layered purple and black tutu* over black leggings.

She turns in excellent work unless it is work we do in-class. During class, she's popping her gum, respectfully ignoring me while writing notes to her friends and covertly reading 1984 for her lit class under the table. She's bright, she's bored, and she wants nothing to do with any of the extra activities I have made available for her. She only wants to get her credit and get out of my class.

She can't dress to flatter her body, can't stand up for herself against the peer pressure of her friends to appear less intelligent than she truly is, and can't put on makeup without looking like the rose garden in full July bloom, but she has the future in the palm of her hand. Looking at her every day, I smile, knowing that she is happy with her life right now because it will pave the way for her future life and success.

*Tutus are worn frequently with no irony at the school where I teach. Don't ask me. I'm not 15.

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His mom gave him a ridiculous name. She also gave him a sense of entitlement, a tendency to use a full volume voice in everyday conversation, and a fear of walking in the door to his house at night. He's alternately loud, obnoxious, poorly behaved (including biting and hitting other students), and completely disruptive to the learning environment of his peers and sweet, inquisitive, and touching (he laid his head on my shoulder and thanked me for teaching him).

I called his mother after another day of constant monitoring and disruptions. My principal and I sat with this student in the principal's office, all gathered around while we talked to his mother on speakerphone. I began with the student's good qualities - when he's on task, he asks bright questions, he participates, he's helpful. She interrupted me.

"What's he done then?"

As I began to list his transgressions, explaining that the bad days are now outweighing the good, she let loose with a barrage of insults at this poor child. She swore, she called him a word I can not in good conscience repeat, and she ordered us to paddle him. My principal and I exchanged looks. This was not a good idea. Then she switches tactics. She starts screaming at us, telling us that if we can't handle spirited children, we are in the wrong business.

The student was now crying, silent tears that broke my heart in two.

It was my fault, once again. I have, once again, been impatient and not understanding enough. I have eighty seven minutes every weekday with this child, for that's what he is. He's a child. I have eight seven minutes to teach him good manners, good study skills, and good behavior. When I lose my patience, what am I teaching him? When I call home and his mom yells at him and threatens him with violence, what is she teaching him? What are we teaching him?

As I walk out the door, I put my hand on his shoulder and give him a squeeze. "I'm sorry."

He looks at me, eyes still wet, "I am sorry, too." I don't know if he's sorry that he's a pain in the ass in class, I don't know if he's sorry that I called his mom, I don't know if he's sorry that I heard what his mother said to him, I don't know if he's sorry that his mom went off on me. I don't know. Because maybe it's all of it and I don't really want to know and I didn't ask.

I am sorry, my student. I will try to do better tomorrow.

Scents and the City

The temperatures were lower than they had been in weeks. It seemed like we were the only ones walking the path. Every once in a while, the wind would catch, sending brief wafts toward us.

Lilacs, fully in bloom. The strange amalgam of gasoline and freshly mown grass. The noisome and fetid lake water and algal bloom. A lumbering bus gifts us with both a brief burst of warm air and a shower of diesel fumes. The fresh scent of cedar mulch used around the bushes in the rose garden. The faint, sweet, cheerful snap of tulips in full bloom.

We walk, sometimes holding hands, occasionally bumping hips as I get distracted by the view of something, anything, and walk into him. We point out the changes since we last walked here. More blooms, the fountain that has been turned on, the wee green oak seeds that now litter the trail, the first blue jay call of the year, the puddles underneath the swings that have dried up, the dog splashing in the (what must be incredibly cold) lake water. Where have the female ducks gone? Are they nesting? Are they at a bachelorette party?

It is a dream. It is real. It's a moment in time we'll never have again.

And more books

l8r, g8r by Lauren Myracle - This book is told through the instant messages of three teenage girls. Apparently, this is a type of novel called epistolary, but my liberal arts education meant I was ignorant of this word until quite recently. I love to read books told through letters and I really want to read e: a novel by Matt Beaumont, a book similarly told through emails. This book was fine. It was funny at times. A completely fine fluff book. I don't think it will change the world, but you may be amused for a few hours.

Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCafferty - I wanted to like this book. And I kind of did. But I felt like something was missing. Notably, the whole book was based on a teenage girl who is missing her best friend who moved away. But we get very little evidence that this relationship actually existed aside from letters the main character would write to the best friend at the beginning of every month. But, really, she was such a whiny brat about her best friend moving that I thought for sure we'd see more flashbacks about that friendship. It just didn't do it for me.

Rumors: A Luxe Novel by Anna Godbersen - This is the second book of the Luxe series. It was not as good as the first, but still pretty good. We follow Elizabeth, Diana, Will, Henry, Penelope, and Lina around spying into their late 1800s lives. I am not usually a fan of historical fiction, but these books are enough like an episode of Guiding Light: Gilded Age that I can get behind them. I'll order the third book from the library.

secrets to happiness by Sarah Dunn - This book was fine. It passed away an afternoon pleasantly enough, in between running downstairs to deal with laundry and get my sick husband some water and/or jello. It has been two days since I've finished the book and with the exception of the fact that there was a dog on the cover, a dog plot line, and a character named Holly, I don't remember much of it. So. It's an acceptable read.

Dragon Keeper by Robin Hobb - I loved this book. It's the first in the Rain Wilds series and I'm totally going to read the other books. It was creative and I loved the two main female characters. I made sure to note to my husband that one of the characters was an adolescent girl and the other was a woman in a suspended state of adolescence, so even though it was not a teen book, it still had enough eighth grade angst to keep me amused. This is so worth a read!

Dear Kohl's

Dear Kohl's,

I'll admit that the last time we had an encounter, I couldn't take it. Your displays were crammed with clothes, making it impossible to browse, let alone take something down to try it on. Your aisles were packed with oddly placed endcaps and various jewelry kiosks just begging me to knock them over, and let's not even talk about the unkempt state of the clearance racks. I fled to the relative sanity of the TJMaxx down the hall.

The time before that hardly seems fair. I had just broken my hand and was trying desperately to find something long sleeved that would fit over it. I found something, a red sweater that ties in the front, and I wore it every day for those four weeks of recovery with my hand, and, I might add, many times since then. However, my memories of your store on this particular occasion are of people bumping into my hand, getting jostled around by someone moving a huge rack of clothing, and crying repeatedly because nothing would fit over the damn cast.

But today, today, I walked into your store with an open mind. Well, open-ish. I wanted dresses. Dresses I could wear all summer. Dresses I could wear bumming around the house, dresses I could wear to the store, dresses I could wear to work, and dresses that would make me comfortable. That's right. Each dress had to do all of these things.

And, man, was there a sale. It seemed like everything in the store was on sale. I don't think that's how it always is at your store because I've actually walked out before thinking you were crazy to be charging such high prices for the quality of your merchandise. But, today, today, my new favorite store, you had a SALE. And suddenly your prices seemed quite reasonable for a set of dresses I anticipate wearing day in and day out for the next four months. And the dresses! There were dresses all over the place. A-line dresses, and dresses with sleeves, and nice babydoll dresses without empire waists, because while I love me an empire waist, this girl does not want everyone to be raising eyebrows over her ever-expanding belly this summer. I loved me some of those dresses.

So for just over $100, I purchased four dresses, and two items of fashion jewelry (two sets of bracelets, rounding out my kitschy jewelry collection to satisfy me at this moment). And then your cashier gave me a $20 coupon I could use later this week. And I'll be back, Kohl's. To buy that dress I put aside, thinking that going over $100 as silly.

I guess I'm writing this letter to I ask forgiveness. For thinking evil thoughts of your cluttered store and spazzing fluorescent lighting. For not remembering how well the red sweater has served me and instead remembering your jam-packed shelves. For not appreciating the depths of your sales. For making fun of your silly commercials on the television. I apologize for all of this because your collection of dresses is better than any I have come across in quite some time. Thank you for your sale of awesomeness.

Yours in consumer solidarity,