I love my library!

My county has a fabulous library system. There are branches all over the area, including one that is a couple of miles from my house. These are things that I love about it:

1. I have an online account that allows me to see what I have checked out, to renew items, and to search the catalog.

2. As an addendum to #1, I can order any piece of material that the library has anywhere in its system, and have it delivered to my branch. And I can do it all online. I have taken such advantage of this. And since MJ has been reading like crazy too this summer, so has she. I wish we got an end of the year statement so I could see what we have checked out and how many things got delivered for us. (I would also love to get a back stage view of the way materials move from one branch to another. When I put an order in, how is it decided where the material will come from? Is it based on proximity to my branch? Do vehicles transport materials to a central location and then send then to the requesting branches, or do vehicles go between branches? How many materials are shifted around between branches over the course of a month or year?) I just sent in my renewal for my "friends of the library" membership because I am so grateful, so often, for the ease that we can get so many books with just a few clicks of the mouse.

3. Great programs. We love storytime at our branch. I take the kids on a regular basis when they are going. Right now, their summer programs are going on. This summer, we have been to different branches for Spanish storytime and a Jr Girls Book Group, which MJ absolutely loved.







Our library has this cool huge planter like box with the words to an Emily Dickenson poem inscribed around it.

TO make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,—
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.

I wish I would have gotten a picture when the bright yellow lillies were all in bloom, but I kept forgetting my camera.


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I Used to be a Daredevil

Tonight, when I was out biking around a lake near my house, with the wind whistling across my face, I was daydreaming about becoming a cyclist. You know--the kind that ride a road bike in spandex and pedal 50 miles or more on a Saturday morning. I've been riding my hybrid bike around leisurely this summer, but would like to go tougher--more confidently, quickly, and aggressively. (I've also been obsessed about converting my bike to electric and then biking around town to do all my errands.)

The kids and I watched the end of the biking portion of a sprint triathlon--AJ competed in his first ever!--and those bikers were coming in so fast. I have my doubts about whether I really could ever develop cycling into a real pursuit. I feel a little nervous about crashes at such high speeds and hills are so intimidating for me.

I was remembering, though, how I used to pedal up to the top of a very steep hill on my orange banana seat bike in my neighborhood in Boise and then just cruise all the way to the bottom, full speed ahead. And I thought back to those Friday nights when my and my mom, dad, and sister would go up to Bogus Basin and ski. I loved the Sunshine trail where I could just ski straight down. N and I would race, and I always won. At least, that's what I remember. I would take every jump and didn't mind the crashes.

Not that I was always jumping off the roof and crashing through the woods. I did a lot of reading and was always pretty nerdy. But, I did do some risky things.

And then I was wondering when I started becoming more cautious. We moved the summer before I started 6th grade. It was such an awkward and self-consious time for me. I felt so uncomfortable in my skin and didn't want to stand out at all. I wanted to wear Rocky Mountain Jeans (not Smacks) and not go to gifted classes. I desparately wanted to wear a bra--like every other girl. Instead, I never took off my powder jacket. There weren't a lot of Mormons and that felt weird. But the time I made it through 9th grade, I finally started settling in and feeling better about myself. But, by that time, I didn't really do any risky things anymore. That was probably the start of it. And I never really did much aggressively on my own to embrace anything risky. Does this follow the Reviving Ophelia thesis?

Anyway, maybe it's time to reclaim some of that.



PS--Thinking about powder jackets really put me on memore lane. I wonder if my parents have any pictures of me in mine. I couldn't find any good online photos of them, except here's a pattern for one. My mom made mine. It was just like the men's shown here, with gray in the middle and maroon on the sleeves with black cuffs and zipper.

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Baby Intoxication

A couple of months ago, we discussed A Severe Mercy for book group (haven't written about it here yet, but will soon). It is mostly the memoir of an amazing marriage. As we were talking about the feelings of young love, it struck me that having an infant is a lot like being newly in love. The gazes, the cooing and talking for his-ears-only, and the focus of devotion and adoration--from both mother to baby and vice versa too. It really is intoxicating. It's happened with all three of my kids.

When Z was very little, my visiting teachers came over. I fed him and then sat with him in my arms, chatting with them. Then, I glanced down at him and his gaze was fixed on my face. It took me by surprise a little bit, and I was transfixed. His look was so steady and pure. He seemed to be looking at me in pure adoration. I cooed at him and was a little overcome with emotion. I felt like I was the center of his (admittedly very small) world. I felt like I was everything to him. While I clash wills with my other two, when they say "Go away mommy" and "NO! I won't!", here he was, just so content to gaze up at his mother. And when I am feeling fat and ugly and unsocial, there is no judgement in his eyes. He still adores me all the same.

Another similar experience happened before he was a month old when I was up with him the in the middle of the night. I had fed him and he wasn't going back to sleep, so I sat down at the computer with him in my arms. When I looked down, he was smiling up at me, eyes shining. It was one of his first smiles and it melted my heart.

Today, when we were out running errands, a woman started cooing and smiling at Baby Z and he immediately gave her one of his wide mouthed, gummy smiles. She commented, "Oh, so beautiful! He smiles with his eyes too." And it's true--his eyes really do light up when he smiles. I love when he catches my gaze across the room and smiles at me.

I think it's love!
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The End of Food

Going along with all my other food inspired reading, I picked this one up after hearing Paul Roberts speaking on NPR. This is like Michael Pollan somewhat, except on a global scale. So, instead of talking about Joel Salatin in Virginia and the intricate system that he utilizes to strategically use grass and cow and chicken manure, and pigs, chickens, and cows' natural behaviors to produce an amazing amount of eggs and meat on a relatively small parcel of land, Roberts describes a Japanese farmer who uses ducks in rice paddies. He looks at the global food market and the way the agribusiness and food companies have tried to convert food into any other commodity. Unfortunately, Roberts doesn't have any kind of narrative hook like Pollan (tracing four meals from the field to the dinner table) and the book bogged down quite a bit for me.

But, it reinforced some of the other things I've been reading and thinking about. Especially with regards to meat. It turns out that raising beef is particularly resource intensive--7 pounds of corn to get 1 pound of beef. Chicken is more efficient, requiring more like 2.5 pounds of corn to get 1 pound. But, as developing countries increase their meat consumption to approach per-capita Western consumption, more and more corn will be required; if everybody consumed at Western levels, it is nearly impossible to produce the amount of corn that would be needed.

Combine this idea with the CAFOs that Pollan describes, and I'm thinking that we should eat less meat overall. I don't think we need to become vegetarian, but maybe trending toward flexitarian.

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Food Obsessions

When I was a kid in elementary school, my mom often packed me a sack lunch. She said that there was time when I would ask for a PB&J every day, every day, without fail. I'll have to ask her how long that phase lasted. It was probably at least one school year, knowing me. And then, from one day to the next, I didn't want PB&J, and didn't want it again for a very long time.

Very typical. I still see this compulsion in myself--in what I choose to eat, but in other things too. I find something I like and then, avoiding any novel kind of behavior, I satiate myself with it until I can't stand to even look at it.

When we lived in Pittsburgh, I mixed up cottage cheese with oregano and tomato and cheese, put it in a pita, and baked it for 15 minutes. I did this every day. I kept going after tomatoes were out of season, and finally switched to canned tomatoes. And then I got really nauseous even thinking about eating this.

Now, my new favorite food obsession is arugula and goat cheese. I like them together on sandwiches or pizza. I like goat cheese quesadillas. And goat cheese on salads. Maybe I will try to avoid going past the point of no return. But, it's doubtful I will be successful...

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My messy house

We found out this week that we have to replace our AC. It's been such a mild summer, we've only turned it on a few times, but every time it hasn't really worked. We finally called someone to come take a look. And it's as old as this house and needs to be replaced.

So, I scheduled a bunch of sales people from various heating and cooling companies to come out and give me an estimate. Three today, three tomorrow.

The most annoying and manipulative of the salesmen (yes, they were all male) wanted to do an extra good job bothering me and supposedly coming up with the perfect size ac unit for our house. So, he took my home's measurements. From the laundry room with the shoes scattered all over the floor to my bedroom with the unmade bed, he saw it all. Ugh. Having him walk through a lot of the house made me see the clutter with new eyes. And I am not happy.

In my defense, it has been a crazy day and I have hardly been home. And when I was home, I was talking to ac salesmen or feeding baby Z. And I don't know how to get my kids to pick up their messes, which they are constantly making.

I'm so tired of the clutter. I need clutter busters...

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visiting teaching messages

I don't like the way that visiting teaching messages are just an assortment of quotes somewhat related to each other, always placed at the back of the Ensign. It used to be that the visiting teaching message was the very last article before the Latter Day Voices, Random Sampler, and News of the Church. But not anymore. They have moved it up for some unknown reason, but it's still towards the end. There is never any unifying text, but it is just a collection of quotes based on some theme. I wonder why they don't have the General RS Presidency write a more meaty message.

And of course, I can't help but say: the home teaching message is always the first article of the Ensign every month. What does the relative placement of these say?

I glanced at the message this morning for the month before I went visiting teaching. I decided I didn't really like it and turned to the mini-bio of Elder Eyring. Lucky for me, my partner had some good things to say about the message. And I got to talk about Elder Eyring.

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Never Let Me Go

By Kazuo Ishiguro. Huh. I read this a while ago and thought I had already posted this. It was nice to read a novel with a great and compelling story, good writing, and interesting characters. What genre is this book? Kind of science fiction, kind of futuristic, but seems to be about real people: like a reviewer said, the point of the novel is about the people, not about the science fictiony plot element. The narrator recounts her life, starting with the elite boarding school that she attended from the time she was an infant until she was 16. The story of unravels bit by bit. I like this description:

[Never Let Me Go] is a masterpiece of indirection. Like the students of Hailsham, readers are "told but not told" what is going on and should be allowed to discover the secrets of Hailsham and the truth about these children on their own.

These students are special and have a societal mission for which they are destined. However, their role in society is morally repugnant. The interesting thing is that it is all so normal for them. They don't try to escape, but just follow through on what they are supposed to do.

I'd like to talk with someone who read it. I'm not sure what I thought of the ending. There was no grand reveal, no final wrapping up. It just kind of drifted off.

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Pittsburgh

The NY Times has a travel article about Pittsburgh up right now. I love the opening paragraph.

Pittsburgh has undergone a striking renaissance from a down-and-out smokestack to a gleaming cultural oasis. But old stereotypes die hard, and Pittsburgh probably doesn’t make many people’s short list for a cosmopolitan getaway. Too bad, because this city of 89 distinct neighborhoods is a cool and — dare I say, hip—city. There are great restaurants, excellent shopping, breakthrough galleries and prestigious museums. The convergence of three rivers and surrounding green hills also make it a surprisingly pretty urban setting.

We moved to Pittsburgh because we didn't move to Boston. Boston and MIT were our top choice for relocation for business school. CMU was an ok second choice. When AJ got the scholarship, though, the financial considerations were compelling enough to drop all other options and make a committment to CMU. We drove over in February to visit. Not the best month to see Pittsburgh. It was gray and cold the whole time we were there and the streets were pockmarked with potholes. We didn't venture very far from campus and our hotel because of our schedule and because I get lost easily. After we left to go back to NYC, we were still not so excited about moving there. I still had a picture of an industrial wasteland in my head.

We left NYC at the end of July with all our belongings in a U-Haul and drove across Pennsylvania to our new home that we had never before seen. A good friend had recommended the house and we saw pictures. We drove into town about 4 pm. The area was absolutely beautful. Everything was green and we drove up and down hills. Flowers were out. We drove through interesting neighborhoods to our wonderful and charming new neighborhood. And our house felt enormous after living in a NYC apartment. It was all so perfect. Auntie M took MJ around the corner to the blue slide park where they played until the truck was unloaded. It turns out we were on the edge of one of the city's best parks, with lots of trails and playgrounds and woods to explore. That night, we got pizza from a delicious pizzeria just up the street from our new house. I was giddy for about a week after that. We had simply fallen into a great city, an amazing neighborhood, and a wonderful house. And we later saw that we were in a simply incredible ward.

We would have stayed in Pittsburgh if we could have. I miss living in a city and in a neighborhood where I can walk to the grocery store and library and get interesting ethnic food easily. My new home is just fine, but I think it's ugly (we are slowly trying to change those things that I find most odious, but I don't think we'll ever get rid of the popcorn celings). It's not in an interesting neighborhood, just another generic suburb. And another generic cul de sac. We drive everywhere (except for the park). I like where we live, we have great neighbors, and we absolutely love MJ's school. But, I hope to live in a very different kind of place the next time we move. Maybe even back to Pittsburgh.

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Shackleton

For book group this month, we read a YA book--Shipwreck at the Bottom of the World-- about Sir Ernest Shackleton's amazing Antarctic expedition. I also read another account by Caroline Alexander--Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition-- which beautifully reproduced some 170 of Frank Hurley's original photographs of their adventure.





The photographs are truly incredible. They give a real sense of the ice wasteland and the conditions these men faced. They showed the stark beauty (at least, as seen from my balmy Minnesota summer) of the Antarctic. And they captured the men and both their daily routines and special occasions. There were quite a few of the Endurance, the ship that took them south and was ultimately destroyed by the ice. It was a wonderful way to get a glimpse into the mission.




Both authors also draw heavily from the first hand accounts of the men, as recorded in their journals during their travels. These provide the life of the book in their details, chronology, and character sketches. (Alexander does a much better job of bringing the characters and their daily routines to life, while Armstrong focuses more on the chronology of events.) The photographs and the journals preserved an amazing story.





There were a few things that struck me.

1. So many times, they were on the brink of total disaster--these occurred both in the mundane day to day survival in such a harsh climate, as well as in the greatly perilous events such as crossing the open ocean in small boats or trekking across the uncharted mountains and glaciers of South Georgia. But, yet, not one man died during the trip. Simply amazing.

2. Shackleton's amazing leadership: he could diffuse tension, spread his optimism through the group in the face of terrible odds, and maintain unity in a group of diverse men. I loved that the morning after they reached Elephant Island, after a bone chilling, devastatingly awful, open sea voyage, that Shackleton was taking around hot drinks to the men in their tents. He was the one who gave up the sleeping bag for the wool blanket. He was utterly determined that not one man would die, and he was successful. I love the vision of the scene at the end: three filthy men stumble from the mountains into the whaling port on S Georgia island. Shackleton asked to see the Norwegian man in charge, whom he knows. Upon their meeting, Sorlle, the Norwegian captain says, "Well?" Shackelton responds, "Don't you know me?...My name is Shackleton."

3. I would never ever want to be an explorer in any polar region, no matter how amazing the landscape, no matter how many times I could see the Aurora Australis and the multiple species of penguins. I don't think I would even want to read an account of their expedition in the winter.

A question came up. How do we feel about Shackleton the man once we know that he has a mistress? I have mixed feelings about it. He was a remarkable leader and accomplished an amazing feat in this expedition, and I don't think he infidelity to his wife should take away from any of that. He unfailing loyalty to his men stands in contrast to his relationship with his wife. I know nothing about his wife or his mistress, so I am really not in a position to judge the situation. And the fact is, no matter who the hero is, he/she is ultimately mortal and has weaknesses. No hero is without blemish.

I felt a little sad that we spent probably only 45 minutes with the book and the rest of the time socializing. I don't mind the socializing, but I wanted to dig in a bit more.

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Where is my mind?

This morning, I had to take baby Z to the pediatrician for his 4 month well baby check. I dropped the other two off at playground camp and raced over there since we were running a little behind. I got baby Z out of the car, walked towards the entrance, and then paused. "Hmm," I thought. "Why does this feel weird?" Then I was trying to remember what floor of this big medical building the pediatrician's office was on. "My ob is on the 6th floor, the dentist on the 5th...Crap!" The pediatrician was in a completely separate location. That's why it felt weird. And we've been going to this ped for well over a year now. How can I do such things? My mind seems to have completely evaporated. My memory feels shot. I'm not even that old. I wonder what will happen to me in my old age.

By the way, Z has gone from the 30th percentile in weight to the 10th. And he is up to the 60th percentile in height. He is such a skinny scrawny little thing. But pretty darn cute!

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China Road

Rob Gifford is a NPR correspondent. He used to be based in Beijing. I would often hear him on Market Place and All Things Considered reporting on anything to do with China. He has a very distinctive voice--a lovely British accented baritone. I could hear his voice reading China Road all the way through.

This was an ok book. Before Gifford leaves China to take on a new NPR assignment, he travels across China 3000 miles from east to west on Route 312. He talks to all sorts of people, stops in many places, and then turns his experience on this trip and as a Chinese based journalist into this book.

My main problem with the book: there was lots of information and as someone who doesn't know a lot about China, I had a hard time keeping the names and places straight. He doesn't go into a lot of detail about any one thing, making it harder to absorb everything. And, it wasn't really engaging as a memoir kind of book. So, all in all, it was mostly an introduction to me. I think I would have preferred to learn about one small piece in more depth than so much in less detail.

I saw Ted Koeppel on The Daily Show this week. He has a 4 hour piece on China coming out in July. I think I should watch it. Maybe some more will sink in for me.

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Bedtimes at the Summer Soltice

Hmm. Not a good night with the kids. AJ left to go to a conference. On a Friday afternoon. Not good. He won't be home until late Wednesday. We've already had meltdowns. (The sun'll come out, tomorrow? Let's hope.) It's so hard to get the kids to go to bed when it's light out. They were in bed at 8:30, but it seemed like 6:30. Of course they don't want to go to sleep. They goof around. They yell at each other and step on each other. They cut up paper in the hallway. They play with water in the bathroom. And T runs around in the hallway after I've given him his last warning. Then I have to shut his door and he freaks out. I reach a breaking point and yell and hustle MJ back into her room. And then I regret it. This hasn't been a very good week with them...
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The Rule of Four

This was a fun read. I heard about it when I was in Princeton. One of the authors was a Princeton undergrad, and the bulk of the novel takes place on Princeton's campus. Lots of familiar places were included: the hospital where MJ was born, many campus buildings and locations, Prospect Street where my first office was located (in a former eating club), Hoagie Haven, and even the street where my advisor lives. Part of the plot includes a thesis advisor gone wacko. (shudder)

Anyway, at the center of the story are four roommates and a mysterious Renaissance text with secret messages encoded within its pages. Throw some Florentine history in there. (I was happy that I figured out the Savonarola tie in before it happened.) It was pretty good. Better writing than Da Vinci Code. I thought the story of the Hypnerotomachia overshadowed the deeper story of friends and relationships. The characters didn't seem well enough developed for me to invest much in this other piece. It was interesting, though, to consider how much the two main protaganists gave up--especially in their relationships--to devote to the Hypnerotomachia.

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Better

I like this background and these colors better. I still need to get the "read more" back up and working and the margins are funky. The colors are not entirely how I want it. But, it's fun to play around with it.
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Under Construction

I've been playing with my blog. After spending time on it, I'm not quite sure what I think of it. Does it seem too busy? I'm going to try a few more things out.
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Rereadings

Edited by Anne Fadiman. I scanned through a lot of this one. These were originally published in The American Scholar. Each essay is written by a famous author and recounts a rereading of a book that was highly influential earlier in life. To show how much I know, none of the "famous writers" were familiar to me; neither were most of their influential books.

I did really love reading about a woman's connection to her wildflower identification book. She traipes about the hills, looking at flowers, as a 19 year old, with her Peterson's in hand and later goes on to become a biologist. I love this line: "Why I persisted in carrying it around and consulting its crowded pages at every opportunity, I have no idea. The book was stubborn; well, I was stubborn too; that was part of it. And I had no choice, really, not if I wanted to get in. A landscape may be handsome in the aggregate, but this book led to the particulars, and that's what I wanted." I have recently felt again the desire to become more connected to my locality. And, coincidentally, one thing I've been wanting to get is a Trees of Minnesota book.

This essay, in the middle of the book, was the first one I read and persuaded me to look at some of the other chapters.

I liked this too:

I read the book slowly, in part because it was dense and in part because I wanted to be seen reading it. I wore the book as much as I read it, "absentmindedly" holding it in one hand on the street even when I was carrying a satchel of books in the other, "casually" parking it atop my notebook next to my coffee cup wherever I sat.

I love sneeking peeks at what other people are reading. A couple of years ago, AJ and I went on a cruise and I smugly compared my vacation reading material with all the Danielle Steeles and John Grishoms that were out there.

So even though the authors and the material they discussed were unknown, the subtext of the way particular books shape us was cozy and familiar.

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The Great Warming: Climate Change and the Rise and Fall of Civilizations

A while ago, there was a fascinating article on paleoclimatology in the New Yorker. It was all about how researchers have been able to use methods like tree ring analysis and ice cores to figure out how the weather--temperature and precipitation--have varied over the last few thousand years.

So, when I heard Brian Fagan talking about his recent book on historical trends in climate change on The Daily Show, I thought it sounds interesting. But, I gave it 50 pages, and couldn't get into it. The material was good, but the writing not so much. It just didn't captivate me.

Even now, though, I think I should go back and try to read through some more of it...
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Cities and Knights

I love you!

We had the happy chance to play twice this weekend with auntie M and uncle R. Fun, fun, fun! I was blue in this game. Notice the two metropolises !(or is it metropoli?)

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No more newborn

Baby Z has made the transition to full blown baby. He doesn't curl up like a hedgehog when he sleeps on AJ's chest, he always wears real clothes during the day--no more pj's 24/7--he has grown out of his car seat headrest, and he is more alert and interacting with us--smiling, laughing, and cooing.

We were just wondering when we will be able to see his personality more clearly and how he will compare with MJ and T. I think he may be more emotionally reserved than either of them. But, we shall see.

This is a trademark baby Z half smile. I love it.

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Last Newborn Pleasure

Too bad I never got a photo of this one. As a new baby, Z would doze when he was nursing. And, as a typical newborn, it took him a long to eat. Every so often when baby Z would finally finish, I'd pull him back from my breast and his face would be all flushed, his hair disheveled, and his eyes would flutter open. Best of all, there would be a trickle of milk dribbling out of the side of his mouth.

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Omnivore's Dilemma

Very interesting. He traces four meals from the soil to the dinner table. A little dense since lots of information was presented--it took me a while to get through. Also an important book to read, I think. It (along with Animal, Vegetable, Mineral: this was a nice flowing narrative, more of a personal memoir) made me think of food and food consumption and the ethics of food in such a different manner. I loved the description of Joel Salatin's farm in Virginia, with his grass fed cattle and his elaborate rotation system. His description of the industrial food chain was also fascinating, as well as the impact of the US goverment's food policies on crops and food prices. And I loved his description of the final meal: eating foods only collected or grown by himself. So, he gets a hunting license, learns to fire a gun, and hunts for wild boar in northern California. And he forages for mushrooms and grows a garden.

I started thinking hard about my family's egg farm business and wanted a section of the book devoted to this. Or at least a New Yorker article. He does include a few paragraphs to egg production to say that journalists have a hard time getting into egg farms and that from all accounts, "egg operations are the worst...The American laying hen spends her brief span of days piled together with a half dozen other hends in a wire cage the floor of which four pages of this book could carpet wall to wall. Every natural instinct of this hen is thwarted, leading to a range of behavioral "vices" that can include cannibalizing her cage mates and rubbing her breast agasint the wire mesh until it is completely bald and bleeding." Hmm. I would love to talk to my uncles about these kinds of ideas, but it might not be received well. I wonder if they have had protests, letters, etc about the way the chickens are treated. The problems of egg production are about scalability. It would be impossible to produce the eggs they do with free range chickens. And it would make eggs a lot more expensive. But, Pollan claims they would be more nutritious.

All very interesting. I am going to look into some locally produced meats, just to get a sense of price difference, and maybe we can make a few strategic moves in this direction. I really love the idea of buying a lot of beef, say, a half cow, all from one single cow that has lived a good cow-life, freezing it, and then being extra-grateful for this one cow and the food that she has given us.

And I am recommitted to visiting the farmer's market once a week during the summer. We'll go this Thursday.

I've been thinking about the committment I would need to make to go all the way with some of these food consumption ideas. With eating locally, with not eating meat that has been produced in CAFO's (confined animal feeding operations), or with going organic. I have decided that there is no way we can do everything, but that we can do something. I need to think more about strategic priorities. What do I feel strongest about? And then we can do a few things here and there. Hopefully, the changes we make in where we spend our food dollars will combine with other tiny drops in the bucket to influence the larger food production process.

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The Year of Living Bibically

Oh, I am way behind in my book notes. Things have been busy here, in a good way. But, I want to catch up this week. This was a very fun read. Another one of the Do-Something-For-A-Year-And Write-A-Book-About-It memoirs that seem to be so popular write now. Jacobs decides to try to follow ever rule/commandment in the Bible over the course of one year. These include both the famous 10 Commandments and less well known admonitions: avoid wearing mixed fibers, stoning adultorers, and playing a 10 stringed harp. Matching his inner committment, he grows a beard and dresses in white. The general tone of the book is witty and entertaining, but he does share profound reflections that have come to him during the process. I especially liked his thoughts on prayer: prayers of gratitude (and very specific ones: "thank you for the farmer who grew the chick peas for my hummus) and prayers for other people.

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Parenting, Inc

by Pamela Paul. This felt like a big jumble of information that has been written about better in other places. Of course selling to parents and kids is huge business. And parents are overbuying. It didn't seem new. She kept repeating herself, a lot of the topical chapters didn't stick that close to topic, and at points, it seemed like she was advocating for specific products which seemed to go against her general thesis, like her raving about the sleep consultant. Is this stuff good or bad? The line was fuzzy for me. And there weren't any really good pieces of practical advice. I guess just being aware of this stuff is helpful? Like I said, it didn't feel new to me. The data factoid that I found stunning: the average American kid gets 70 new toys per year. Ugh. I have felt revulsion against the consuming kids culture quite a bit. I never want to have a "everyone bring a gift, big birthday party" again. Maybe with the third kid, where most everything is a hand me down, and I am longing to purge the toyroom, the idea of consuming more baby goods just feels so unnecessary.
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This made my day

Today was the first grade dance performance at MJ's school. She came home yesterday with her costume and was so excited. She put it on immediately, and wore it for an hour until she got too hot in it. She pranced around in front of the mirror, admiring herself and explaining how I needed to do her hair. She showed me her final pose of the dance, and explained why hers was different than the rest of the class--because of more girls than boys in her class, she danced with another girl, and that put them front and center at the end when they got to flourish their full-skirted dresses.

Her class performed a traditional Mexican dance. The girls whipped their skirts around the whole time. The boys wore gold embellished sombreros. I am in love with MJ's school and couldn't be happier with what she's learning. Her Spanish has gotten so good and her accent is awesome. In a couple of years, she will overtake me with her Spanish skills. It's so fun to have a peek into the culture of the school at an event like this. The kids and teachers worked so hard to put the dances together, the costumes were amazing, and everyone had a great time. And I love that they get to experience the cultural aspects of Latin America as part of their curriculum and education. I was just so proud of her and her class and so excited that she gets to have this really unique educational opportunity.

At one point in the dance when everyone was in a long line, MJ was looking out at the audience and smiling, while the other kids were looking around, staring out, etc. She learned something about performing from ballet class.

It's hard to believe that the school year is already ending and that she has finished first grade. Her reading skills have rocketed forward this year and she has done well and enjoyed herself.
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New calling

I am sooo happy. Maybe now I can write a post about why I don't like scouting in the church. I have been holding off with it because I am trying to support AJ in his scouting calling. And what that means is that I bite my tongue and say nothing at all. But, he is getting released on Sunday--maybe he won't even have to go to scout camp this summer. And he is going to be teaching seminary for the 2008-09 school year, something I can really get behind. Plus, he will get to play the piano in primary, at least for a while. Perfect, perfect, perfect for him. Both of them. And no more family tension over scouts! Yeah!
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Happy Anniversary!

Yesterday was our 9th anniversary. I got out of bed after AJ has left to take MJ to the bus. After a cranky and off day for me, we met up briefly for dinner with the kids at Punch Pizza where we proceeded to talk about our schedule for next week while eating really tasty pizza di Napoli. Then, he went to scouts and I took the kids to Target for a few things. We got home, I gave them a cranky (all of us) bath and read them stories. Then, a good friend who I haven't talked to in a long time called. I called her back when AJ got home from scouts. I talked on the phone with her for a long time. AJ went to bed at 9:30 since he had stayed up until 2 the night before with work. After the call, I folded the laundry and fed baby Z one more time before going to bed at 12. Happy anniversary to us! And the additional bad news is that AJ is going with the scouts river rafting this weekend, so no date night.

He did get me the Lost season finale edition of the TV guide which we read together the night before our anniversary and a perfect card.

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Lost Season Finale

Oooh! It's here. The Lost finale, season 4. We'll get to find out what the heck "frozen donkey wheel" is and what it means that Locke is going to move the island. To extend the joy more fully, we are having sushi for dinner and bananas foster on the grill. I just hope the kids will go to bed both easily and quickly. Nothing worse than having to pause through the whole first hour to attend to a kid yelling down the stairs.

I don't have many predictions for tonight. Who is in the coffin? My best guess of late is Ben, but I don't really like it and don't feel convinced.

The one thing I am desperately hoping will not happen: Desmond's death. My favorite episode of the season was The Constant, which we watched the night before baby Z was born. In it, we finally got a feel good moment where Desmond and Penny get a chance to talk to each other so that Desmond can connect the two parts of himself that exist 10 years apart. When I saw him on the freighter, loaded with explosives, I worried that The Constant was the only resolution we would get to Penny and Desmond's story. Please, don't let it be so! I love Desmond.

I wouldn't feel as bad if Jin died, but I am still holding out hope that the grave was just a ruse.


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First Hair Cut

Before: Happy to be moppy

After: A little sad to be so clean cut

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Mother's Day is Father's Day

Mother's Day was, as usual, the second Sunday of May. Because of MJ's dance recital that weekend, we decided to have baby Z's blessing the same time so that AJ's parents could attend both. With the baby blessing, AJ's parents in town, and a weird sacrament meeting I didn't really dwell on the issues that usually arise on Mother's Day.

(For some reason, the ward powers that be have decided this year and last that having the young men speak would be a good way to commemorate Mother's Day. Weird. Very weird. I pushed hard to try to get AJ, who works with the young men, to get them to reschedule for another Sunday. One kid talked about how his mom has forced him to go to church and how much he doesn't like it. Another kid ended with talk with "Mothers are good. I have one." Yuck. But, of course, there were no "angel mother" talks or "mother on a pedestal" talks that I detest.)

I was feeling a little bad that AJ's parents were the only ones from our families to come to the blessing. My niece was baptized in April, and it seemed like half of my family were there. My parents went over from MT, and all my sisters that lived nearby were there with their families. They had a big family meal afterwards. Just a stark contrast to our lonely little group. And my aunt and uncle and cousins from nearby couldn't come and others we thought might come couldn't come. It felt a little lonely.

So, I was extra grateful that AJ's parents came (all the way from Italy, and a mere 3 weeks before they were to return home to Denver for good). AJ's mom got baby Z the most adorable blessing outfit from Italy. It was knit knickers, with a little round collar and a design across the chest. The sweater that went with it was double breasted. And then there was a pair of knitted booties with a little light blue design in them. He looked soo cute. The first time we tried it on him (before his hair was cut), I got choked up.

The blessing went fine. I felt strangely detached from the whole experience. I gave baby Z to AJ, and they went up to the front of the chapel where he disappeared from my view behind the curtain of suits. And the blessing. This is a blessing for his whole life, and there wasn't really anything I could do to be a part of it. AJ and I had talked some beforehand, but there wasn't much in the blessing that really connected with me. It was fine. You know. Perfectly fine. I am grateful that it happened, grateful that AJ could bless him and that his dad could participate and that "uncle B" was there. And AJ had a really great experience with him in the blessing. I am grateful for his chance to connect more with baby Z. But, it didn't draw my heart out to my child like I thought it might.



Some things from his blessing:

• Born into a precious covenant, take advantage of these blessings
• Blessed with faith in the gospel
  
• Grow up to serve a mission, marry in the temple
• Much thought and even prayer has been given to your name. Honor your name by working hard.
• Seek balance between the spiritual and the intellectual
• Special bond with your mother and the rest of your family
• Will be a strength and comfort to your mother
  

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I'm back

I haven't written much on my blog this month. There are a few reasons for this.

1. Baby Z is not sleeping so much during the day. Not as much time to write.
2. AJ's parents were here for a week. We kept busy with them. And we went on vacation over Memorial Day weekend so we kept busy getting ready to go, and then traveling and vacationing.
3. Just not as inspired. This is probably the main one. There have been a few times where I've sat down to try and write something, but nothing good has come out. I have a few books I've read that I need to write about, but I just haven't wanted to. I've been thinking about this a little bit. I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Not much, just not feeling very mentally energized, kind of low mentally.

The month didn't start off very well. Although I've mentioned it a couple of times, I haven't written about this amazing book I read a month or so ago: Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich. I'm going to get around to doing this. Because it was such a wonderful book. I loved it. I was inspired by it. I read Virginia Woolf because of her, and I ordered The City of Ladies by Christine de Pizan to read. I felt so empowered by the woman Ulrich describes. I identified with them. I felt lucky to connect with them. I embraced my gender more fully by reading about them.

Then, I went to book group to discuss it. The discussion was just so flat. When no one had much to say to the first question I asked--"Which stories about women did you really like?"--I should have foreseen the end from the beginning that night. No one liked it as much as I did. No one had much to say about it. (And no one there has ever wished they were a boy before--a theme that comes up with the three main women that Ulrich discusses. Once again, I feel like a freak!)

I suppose there are a few rational reasons for the discussion: who was there and who wasn't there, how much they had read, etc. But, I had given this book and this book discussion such high expectations that it was hard not to feel disappointed. The one person who did have quite a lot to say commented that the book was too academic for her taste, too many words she didn't know the meanings of. I didn't think it would be too academic. But, maybe everyone disagreed with that.

And another side comment by this same person that made me take pause. We were talking about telling and recording our stories, as women, and someone made the comment that in our ward the women there have a lot of stories. And I said something about how I haven't been privy much to women's retelling of their own stories. This person's explanation for that was that I am intimidating. That when women sit next to me, they are intimidated because I am "so smart, so intellectual" and that that hinders them from talking to me. Really? Is that how I am really perceived? My explanation of this phenomena had more to do with my personality, my personal reserve. But, her idea has been niggling at me all month and I wonder if she's right.

It reminds me of when I was in the MTC and were were having some kind of district relationship building exercise and we had to say what strengths other members of the district had. The ones that they came up with for me were things like: always know the background to the scripture references, knows the scriptures really well. I remember being somewhat upset. I didn't just want to be brainy and intellectual. Why not something about kindness? Or a listening ear? Or testimony? And it also reminded me of when we moved to Montana when I was in sixth grade and I refused to go to the gifted class because I just wanted to be smart, but I didn't want to be only known as that smart girl.

Anyway, I left that evening feeling a little blue. And wondering if I will ever really love my ward. To make it worse, AJ didn't ask me one question about the night. How it had gone, what we had discussed. Usually, I tell him all about it. But, it was a crazy week: a major restructuring at work and his parents here. And we just never had the conversation so I haven't been able to openly process the experience.

I feel fine now. My mind is popping with ideas about what I want to write about. But, I do miss having a regular forum with lots of really smart women to discuss crazy, practical, heretical, and all sorts of ideas.

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The Prize Winner of Defiance Ohio

By Terry Ryan. This was a pretty good memoir of the author's childhood and her mother. We watched the film a few weeks back, starring Julianne Moore as the prize winning jingle writer. I didn't know this, but back in the 50's and 60's, there were a lot of company sponsored contests with prizes ranging from coffee makers and bikes to cars, cash, and trips. Through wit and grit, Evelyn Ryan managed to keep her family of 10 children out of desperate poverty through her winnings. Her jingles provided both the down payment for a house, and well as the money required to pay off a second mortgage her alcoholic husband had taken out without her knowledge.

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The Runner

The Runner : A True Account of the Amazing Lies and Fantastical Adventures of the Ivy League Impostor James Hogue, by David Samuels

This one looked great. The story of a guy who gets into Princeton in the mid 90's by making up a fantastic life story. Originally a story in the New Yorker. But, it just didn't come together for me. The author tries to weave in some self-reflection on how he and the imposter, James Hogue, are similar. And tries to talk about the the role of elite universities in maintaining the class system of the US. Hogue doesn't come alive as a personality. Overall, flat. Too bad.

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America's Women: 400 Years of Doll, Drudges, Helpmeets, and Heroines

By Gail Collins. AJ got me this one for Christmas or my birthday last year. I held off on reading it because I thought it would nicely complement Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History. And it did. Collins' book starts with the first European settlers here, including women. And then she works methodically through time, finishing up with the 60's and 70's. To sum up her subjects, a NYT book reviewer says:

All the famous heretics are here from Pocahontas, Anne Hutchinson and the witches of Salem lore to the abolitionists, suffragists, social reformers, labor organizers, civil rights activists and feminist leaders of the 19th and 20th centuries.

There are particularly affecting portraits of the Grimke sisters, Sojourner Truth, Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Clara Barton, Jane Addams, Margaret Sanger, Mother Jones and many more. They mingle with Annie Oakley sharpshooting her way to freedom in wild West shows, the Gibson Girl setting loose on her bicycle, the flapper in her Model T and the legendary romantic heroines of American stage and screen who reshaped women's aspirations here and around the world through their embrace of modern culture, not politics.

She also focuses on every day life for women: what daily chores looked like, how women took care of menstruation, what birth control has looked like through time.

Collins does a great job of covering the experiences of lots of different kinds of women: immigrants, poor, and black women in addition to middle class whites. She shows the diversity of women's experiences. But, because she covers so much history and so many different women, it is hard for me to keep details of very many women in my mind.

A key theme throughout her book is the "The center of our story is the tension between the yearning to create a home and the urge to get out of it." She shows that this has been a centuries long struggle for American women, "a struggle to straighten out the perpetually mixed message about women's roles."

Similar to Ulrich's book, she mentions that women who make history are those that have left behind a great deal of information. "New England spinsters get way more that their share of attention because of their winning habit of keeping diaries. Native American women who had no written language left behind almost nothing of their voices."

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City of Ladies

In Book of the City of Ladies, the medieval writer Christine de Pizan constructs an allegorical city populated by remarkable women of historical note. I have yet to read this book, but I have been captivated by the idea of a city of ladies.




Back in the fall, I was pondering about what books to suggest for our 2008 book group selections. I had started reading Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History, which uses de Pizan and her City of Ladies as a foundational theme and text.

Soon afterwards, I had a phone conversation with a good friend whom I had not spoken to in a long while. We ended up talking for at least 2 hours about a number of topics, including the empowerment I have found in writing and her frustration over her inability to write. She commented that out of all the "mommy friends" she has, she hadn't had such an intimate and emotionally-open conversation in a long time. We both greatly enjoyed the talk.

As I was drifting off to sleep that night, with my mind still whirling from our conversation, I had a quasi-dream or a picture in my head. I was surrounded by women. Closest to me were strong, empowered, intelligent women who are dear friends of mine, whom I can share all of my concerns, frustrations, and thoughts about what it means to be a woman, about motherhood and life, and about hundreds of other idea-rich topics. Further away from me were other strong women from history. I distinctly remember that Elizabeth Cady Stanton was in the group, quite a ways from me, but part of the press of women surrounding me. I had also been reading about her in Ulrich's book. As I drifted off to sleep, I felt so safe and sheltered and so grateful to be among such amazing women who have enriched and blessed my life. It was a wonderful image to fall asleep with.

I have recently read Ulrich's book in its entirety and her discussion of the City of Ladies brought back this memory.

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Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

This was the perfect book to read at the beginning of spring.
Barbara Kingsolver's description of the fertility and growth of her (amazingly large) garden made me excited for summer to be here. I was really inspired by Kingsolver's family's efforts to eat locally for a year. For them, it came down to giving up bananas (but not coffee or olive oil), growing a very large garden and using its bounty to store up food for the winter (I love the idea of making, then freezing, pesto at the height of basil season), growing turkeys and chickens and then harvesting and freezing them for later consumption, and buying local produce, milk, and other meats.

The best part of the book, IMO, was her descriptions of the family's efforts to eat locally. I thought the sections of the book which talked about commercial farms, carbon footprints, and other side effects of the way Americans eat were interesting, but not as good. However, her description of the turkey industry (I was amazed to learn that 99% of turkeys never make it past Thanksgiving and that turkeys scarcely ever reproduce on their own. Mostly, the females are artificially inseminated and the eggs incubated. Thus, turkey don't know how to reproduce and take care of eggs.) dovetailed well with her description of her own efforts to help her turkeys have turkey babies. I also really enjoyed reading about her trip to Italy part-way through their year and her insights on the Italian food economy.

I feel inspired to do a few (very small) things after reading her book.

1. Seek out farmer's markets and other sources of local produce this year.

2. Plant a small patch of vegetables in the yard.

3. Find delicious ways to prepare foods that are in season. She has a lot of great looking recipes in the book I'd like to try. And I want to look into a cookbook that is organized by season.

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Two Income Trap

We did this one for book group this month. Using data from a survey of families in economic trouble, the authors find that families have less overall economic security where both parents work, compared to families in the past where one parent worked. This is because when both parents in a family are working, most of the money that they make goes towards fixed costs (like a mortgage). The title comes from the fact that if one parents has to step out of the labor market due to a family issue or layoffs, the valuable safety net of having the other parent step into the labor market (most often the mother) to make up some lost income is not available. They point to skyrocking levels of bankruptcy, but then show how excessive consumption, a common explanation, does not explain it.


(As a side note, I thought that they did not give enough thought to the fact that someone who has not been in the workforce for a long time will have a hard time finding a job in the area of their expertise. If the economy has been turning south, it will be even harder to find a job. And certainly, whatever job this person--probably the mother--could find will not pay even close to what was being earned by the husband.)


Policy implications at the individual level were minor. "Don't get into more house than you can afford" and "don't use all your income on fixed costs." There were a few more at the goverment/institutional level--things like not making bankruptcy harder for families, prohibiting large and unfair credict card interest rates, making risky loans harder to give, giving incentives for saving.

All in all, this was an ok book, but the authors didn't do a good job walking the line between researcher and general audience. It was packed full of anecdotes to make it accessible to non-economists, and they left all the meaty details out for the same purpose. But this left it feeling watered down and a little repetitive. Their academic articles would be better for the nuances of their arguments, and this book could have been condensed to a (admittedly lengthy) magazine article.

The discussion at book group took a long time to turn to the book. Baby Z was with me, and I was only peripherally involved because I was busy with him and because I didn't have much to say. I felt a little bothered that the woman who suggested the book was not there. Why did she like it? What kind of points did she think were discussion-worthy? We'll never know.

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The Soundtrack of My Life

What is it about music that is so evocative of particular times in our life? More than anything else, when I hear certain songs, I am immediately drawn back to a certain place, with specific people. And more than just the memories, songs bring back the dramatic feelings of those experiences.

Interestingly enough, there is a song that brings me back to BYU, 1997, living with Polly (a big country fan), trying to get on with my life post-Brian, which has this idea as its topic.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Tricia Yearwood's The Song Remembers When:

I was standing at the counter
I was waiting for the change
When I heard that old familiar music start...

After driving out the memory
Of the way things might have been
After I'd forgotten all about us
The song remembers when

We were rolling through the Rockies
We were up above the clouds
When a station out of Jackson played that song
And it seemed to fit the moment
And the moment seemed to freeze
When we turned the music up and sang along...

We were headed straight for Eden
It was just around the bend
And though I have forgotten all about it
The song remembers when

This afternoon, I had a conversation with a friend about Latin music and I was immediately transported back to Mexico and Bolivia. Since then, I have been brainstorming songs that are strongly tied to place and memory. Here are some of them:

1984: Journey's Faithfully, sixth grade dance. For some reason--I think mostly to avoid Def Leppard--the teachers played this song over and over

Valentine's Day 1985: Chicago's You're the Inspiration. Everyone dedicated this song to their girl/boy friend in the Valentine's Day edition of the East Middle School newspaper

1990: They Might Be Giant's Flood

1991: Beauty and the Beast "I want much more than this provincial life". Sophomore year of college, crushing on James

1993-1994: We couldn't listen to much music on the mission. One hymn that was sung in Spanish wards with extreme vigor was "Rendire' mi corazon, en secreta oracion." It sounded so much better in Spanish than in English.

1995-1996: The Eagle's Peaceful Easy Feeling. This is inextricably linked with a lot of memories around the guy I thought I was going to marry. A whole group of us listened to The Eagles Greatest Hits album over and over and over. In my apartment with roommates. On a road trip to Vegas. Brian was the Desperado who didn't know what was in front of him. I wanted to be this: "And I'm feelin' strong. I will sing this vict'ry song, woo, hoo,hoo,woo, hoo, woo hoo hoo."

1996: Mana's Donde Jugaran Los Ninos The group of BYU students that I went to Mexico with for the literacy study abroad there listened to this one over and and over. Anytime I hear any song from this album, I am sitting in a restaurante eating a torta in Guanajuato. Unless it's Te Llore' un Rio. Which reminds me of Brian. I sang along with this song so passionately quite a few times. "I cried a river for you, now you can cry an ocean for me." I wanted him to come back to me, telling me he was wrong, begging me to take him back.

No tienes corazon
No te vuelvo a amar
Te llore' todo un rio
Ahora llorame un mar

1997: Shakira's Estoy Aqui. I hear this and I am in Bolivia at a barbeque.

1998: James Taylor's How Sweet It Is. A new group of roommates, and a new greatest hits album. The year I finished my master's, I also met AJ. One evening, I was using my advisor's office to work on my thesis and AJ came up to visit me and bring me delicious death by chocolate cake from an event he had been to. We "hung out" and listened to James Taylor.

2001: Bobby McFerrin and Yo-Yo Ma's version of Hush Little Baby. MJ was born in October of that year. We sang Hush Little Baby to her every night for years. When she got older, she begged us to make up lyrics with strange gifts: "Daddy's going to bring you pink unicorn."

2002: Enrique Iglesias' Escape. My sister M came to stay with us this summer. Right before we moved to NYC, Enrique was on the Today show. M was obsessed with him, so she and MJ and I stayed in a hotel overnight so that she could stake out the outdoor performance venue and watch him perform. MJ and I walked over close to the time of the performance so we could hear (from a distance) "you can run, you can hide, but you can't escape my love." MJ loved dancing to it, and for months afterward, we would get excited when we heard it in the grocery store and dance to it at home.

2004: The Lion Sleeps Tonight. This is what we sang to T every night. He has recently been asking us to sing it to him at night again.



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Self Improvement Books, Part 2

In thinking about reading these books, I figured out another reason why I constantly postpone picking how-to-be-better-books up and getting into them. Reading for me is a way to leave my regular, mostly hum-drum life behind. But, when I read books that very specifically and conscientiously require me to self reflect and think about my own life, it turns the whole experience into something very different.

I've started two of them.

The first: Square Foot Gardening. There was way too much information in there. I decided to talk to the woman I know who did this last year for the very basics and forget about reading much more of the book.

The second: Parenting book. Well. I am very depressed about my parenting. And overwhelmed. It seems like a lot of what I do is Bad Parenting Behavior. I might have to set this one aside for a while and only pick it up occasionally and then only work on very small steps at any one given time.

And that's another problem. I can't handle doing all these personal and family self improvement plans simultaneously. This was just plain a bad idea.

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Newborn Pleasures: #5 and #6

#5: The tongue that is perpetually white from drinking only breastmilk

#6 Sticking out tongue:

We all have a great time sticking our tongues out at baby Z and then watching him stick his tongue back out at us

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They Might Be Giants

Just a few minutes ago, I heard T saying, "Z lives his life in a garbage can." Hmm. What is he talking about? Is this some manner of sibling frustration at getting replaced as the youngest kid in the family?

Perhaps. But probably not. After I asked him about it, he told me it was from Particle Man--all save the Z part:



Person man, person man

Hit on the head with a frying pan

Lives his life in a garbage can

Person man

My kids have been really into They Might Be Giants (brand new album) Flood. The other morning, I was sleeping in a little bit after AJ and MJ had already left, and I awoke to vigorous singing of "Not to put too fine a point on it, Say I'm the only bee in your bonnet, Make a little birdhouse in your soul" and "after chasing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts." They especially love this one and Istanbul (not Constantinople).

Back in 1990, I started college. Two of my uncles were also there, and they helped me get settled in a bit there. I took American Heritage with one of them who was just fresh of a mission. Anyway, they introduced me to They Might Be Giants and Flood. Listening to it with my kids brings back lots of memories. Living in Helaman Halls, jogging around the track nearby. The album is great fun.

Since having kids, we have really liked listening to They Might Be Giants albums for kids. When Maren was small, No! had just been released and we listened to it a lot. She loved "Don't cross the street in the middle, in the middle, in the middle of the block" and we listened to it over and over. One afternoon, when she was 8 or 9 months old, my sister and I had taken a trip out to the Ikea on Long Island. I guess we pushed our limits with MJ, because towards the end of our trip, she started screaming and wouldn't stop. The only thing that would calm her down is that song, and we listened to it over and over and over. Later that summer, we took her to a concert in Central Park to hear them in concert. It started at a hour much past her bedtime. She started getting fussy during the opening act, but once TMBG started playing, she was happy and engaged and dancing around--as much dancing as a pre-walking baby can do.

We still haven't gotten their new cd Here Come the 123s. But, we did just find that they have just started video podcasting for kids and we have enjoyed watching some videos.

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"Self improvement" books

The next few books that I have to read are all for the purpose of betterment. For myself, for my kids, for my family. I resist reading these kinds of books because for the most part, I don't think that they are very interesting. And it takes up precious reading time that could be spent in more engaging books. Plus, they require that, if I agree with their tenets and conclusions, that I step up and make a plan in order to incorporate their principles into my life. Not to mention that I find them too common, with their "inspiring" anecdotes and cheesy covers, that I am embarrassed about reading them. (Yes, I am an elitist book snob.) And lastly, they aren't typically books that you read from cover to cover. All of these things put them squarely in a different camp from what I typically read. But, the time has come for these and because of various timing reasons, they are all up on the "next to read" list. I'll have to see if any of them merit their own post once I'm done.

They include:

1. One for me about exercise and nutrition. I'm motivated right now about weight loss and fitness, so I hope this will help me with some struture. It's all about a 12-week program. I like the specifics. I will let you know in 12 weeks what I think of the program and how it worked.

2. One for baby Z about sleeping. It's amazing--he's sleeping sooo well at night. Much better than either of my others. I will scan the sections relevant for his age and work on a few things with him. He will need to start learning to go to sleep by himself in a month of so.

3. A couple of parenting books. One just came up at the library. A good friend recommended it and talked about how much it has helped her with her kids. And I figured if I'm going to read one, I may as well read another that has been sitting by my bed for a while.

4. One for our family. This one is a how to book on gardening. Pick a small patch of well lit yard, build a little garden container, and make a square foot garden. A friend did this last year. It was small enough that they could maintain it, and they got some nice produce from it.

Phew. That's more than enough self improvement for one time. I am saving the two books I have on how I can get my kids to do housework and how I can get myself to do housework for later.

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A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

By Dave Eggers. This book is interesting not so much for its content but for the way it is written. Described as post-modern, it is a stream of consciousness memoir about two brothers, ages 22 and 8, whose parents die within weeks of each other and then their life together as the older brother becomes the caretaker and parent of the younger. I started it out feeling intrigued and interested. Their adventures and lived lifes were zany and sometime hilarious. But, it got long. It would have been better if it were 100 pages shorter. And there was too much "language" for my taste, even though I think my bar is set pretty low.

I liked this paragraph from the NYTimes book review

''A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius'' is, finally, a book of finite jest, which is why it succeeds so brilliantly. Eggers's most powerful prose is often his most straightforward, relying on old-fashioned truth telling for its punch. In a scene that is moving, funny and terrible all at once, he returns to Lake Forest for the first time since his parents died and tries to scatter his mother's cremains into Lake Michigan. The ashes, which he is surprised to discover resemble cat litter instead of the biblical dust he was expecting, keep sticking to his sweaty palms. He spills some and stoops to pick them up, and in the process spills some more. Then he accidentally steps on them. He is aghast: ''I am a monster. My poor mother. She would do this without the thinking, without the thinking about thinking.''

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My Sister's Keeper

By Jodi Picoult. Ah, a good fiction read. And what I mean by a good fiction read here is nice beach vacation kind of light read, plot driven to the end. But, it wasn't all fluff. The main dilemma of the story--the ethics of genetically engineering a child and then using her blood and organs to support an older, sick child and the family dymanics that are involved when a child is suffering from severe illness--are thought provoking. All in all, the story was interesting and compelling. The characters were interesting for the most part. And the ending? Well. That threw me for a loop. I kept wondering how it would end. And wow. Picoult pulled out a good one with it.

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To Nurture

Susan W. Tanner from this morning's session of General Conference.

"To nuture is to teach, to foster development, to promote growth, to feed, and to nourish...The scriptures use the word nurture only twice and in both cases speak of the responsibility of parents to raise their children "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." President Hinckley also admonished both men and women to be nurturers.

This seems to be quite different from "Another word for nurturing is homemaking."

And I love how she clearly states that men and women should both be nurturers.

One small issue I had with her talk. I didn't like how she implies that the innate gift to nurture comes solely by virture of having XX chromosomes.

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It's all relative

Disclosure: This is about my physical appearance. I don't like to admit that body issues bother me--I am beyond the typical body compulsions that most American women feel, all those unrealistic expectations they have about what they should look like, right? And I don't like to talk about my insecurities. I don't like to hear other people (read: some of my sisters) obsess about their bodies. But, yet, here it is.

On and off the past few weeks, I have been depressed about my weight. Ugh. So much to lose. My least favorite part of going to the dr when I was pregnant was getting weighed. Kind of silly, because it's the one time you're supposed to be gaining weight, but for me, I knew that it wasn't just baby weight and I was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. The first time I went back to the gym, at about 3 weeks post-birth, I got on the scale and knew the time had come to deal with it.

The big belly, the last couple of months before birth, dwarfs all other weight gain. It just felt like it was all belly. Then, when the belly is gone (or at least, when the baby is born) then the weight on the rest of the body becomes crystal clear. Before the birth, everyone smiles at you and your "cute belly." Afterwards, you're just one of thousands of chubby Americans. I want to wear a sign on me saying, "I just had a baby. That's why I'm chubby like this!"

The weight will come off, I know. By the time I'm done breastfeeding, I might be somewhere close to my more normal weight. And that's the other depressing thing. The breastfeeding boost to breasts are dwarfed by the extra weight other places. By the time the weight it gone, I'll be back to nearly A. Or worse.

Lucky for me, I have a really cute baby. I can divert attention from myself and my insecurities by placing him strategically on my lap, in front of the leftovers from the pregnant belly.

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Amens

Is it hypocritical to say "Amen" when you don't agree with everything said in a prayer? Or can you say a conditional "Amen", setting aside that which you object to? Or is it better just to not say "Amen" at all?
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