Live and Let Di

The Glorification (and Blondification) of Amy

One of the questions I am often asked by my blog readers is, "How much time do you spend on this and how do you find the time?" My answer is, "Way too much time and I simply don't pay attention to other pressing matters such as parenting, personal hygiene and laundry."

The other, more existential question I have been fielding is "Why do you do this?" I've tried answering, "I read, therefore I am" only to be met with blank stares, quick glances at Cartier Roadsters (I had to call my friend Cathy the fashion maven because I knew instinctively that because I've heard of Rolex, it must be painfully out of style), grabbing of Louis Vuitton handbags and mutterings of "Hmmm...I think I have a 1)bikini wax; 2) root canal or 3) plastic surgery consultation...gotta run!"

So I've given this a great deal of thought. Why I do this is to entertain and amuse Amy. Who is Amy you may ask but if you have to ask, you don't know me very well because when I'm not starting sentences with, "I read this book...", I am starting sentences with, "My best friend Amy said..." Amy is the source of so many of my book recommendations because she reads as much as I do, if not more. She is the one person who can make me pick up a book I've thrown against the wall in disgust and convince me to read just a few more pages...and the book ends up being one of my all-time favorites. Cases in point are The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell and Alias Grace which actually started me on a retroactive love affair with Margaret Atwood that continues to this day.

So just who is Amy and why should we trust her to recommend books to us?

Is she this innocent college senior who became my friend at the age of 20 and continued through years of handwritten letters, too-expensive phone bills, hiding phone bills from our husbands, several changes of e-mail providers and now hiding cell phone bills from our husbands?

Or is she the trusting soul who took my word that this was a good look for us for some theme party or another? And exactly whose pants were those Amy? I think I could make them work now!

Is she the one I can trust to laugh, nay, to guffaw at anything I say that is remotely funny? Who is also the one who, if I committed murder would smoothly say, "Oh, I did that once too. It's not that bad" and then would help me establish an alibi and hide the murder weapon.

In another fashion disaster moment (but for a good cause) this could be Amy...wearing a pink wig, feather boa and sequined glasses while wielding a golf club for breast cancer research.

Or is this her? Celebrating the beginning of her fifth decade by applying a temporary tattoo to her breast, allowing me to photograph it...and convincing all of her friends to do the same.

But really, this is her...a little older, a little blonder, looking more and more like her mother with every passing year. Still talking on the phone too much. Still looking at capitalization as purely optional. Occasionally using "summer" as a verb, as in "We summer on Block Island". Hitting more than missing on book recommendations while still very questionable on foreign films. Looking all erudite and articulate, but reading National Enquirer while in line at the Stop 'n' Shop.

I guess you'll just have to take my word for it that we can trust her to recommend books...although all of that might change if I don't start really liking The Stolen Child. Hey...the Margaret Atwood thing was years ago and you are only as good as your last recommendation.

So the long answer to the short question is that why I blog is for the glorification (and blondification) of Amy!

Di

The Memory Keeper's Daughter

Thank you all for your kind concern about me and my family during the hurricane-that-wasn't, Ernesto. Actually I didn't get much kind concern. From my Mom, I got, "Oh, is there a hurricane down there? I was playing golf. Sorry, gotta go play bridge." From my husband I got, "I'm leaving for Minneapolis. You'll be fine. See you Thursday night." And finally from my best friend for over 20 years who knows me better than I know myself, Amy, I got, "This doesn't mean you're not going to blog tomorrow does it? I mean, you have some kind of back-up plan so you can post even if the power goes out, right?" I am pretty sure that Julie Powell got more empathy from her blog readers during the great power outage in New York in August 1993 than I got from my nearest and dearest about Ernesto. Love you guys!

I'm quite perplexed about the unusually high percentage of non-fiction books represented on this blog. It's kind of the same way that I am perplexed that I can no longer have that third glass of wine. I don't like being the girl whose limit is two and who can't just keep pouring a few more red sweet, sparkling drops to complement the sparkling conversation and sweet company of an intimate dinner party. I say intimate dinner party and you visualize Baccharat crystal, candlelight, tuxedos and dresses with sequins...when in reality it's more like wine glasses whose breakability factor is inversely proportional to their cost...but no one cares if they break when they are cheap! And there are usually several children streaming in and out wanting mediation, more juice boxes or homemade cookies (ha!) We carefully make desserts with kid-unfriendly stuff in them like pine nuts so that we are not required to share. And the wine is chosen (and usually abandoned by the guys who would much rather have Corona or Michelob Ultra) based on 1) the cuteness of the label, 2) whether or not my niece Ashley has been to the country the wine comes from or 3)its sale price at Publix.

So, all that being apropos of nothing, The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards is one of the best pieces of fiction I have read in a long time. It was recommended by my Mom whose book-recommending ability is only exceeded by her willingness to take my children (and grudgingly my dog Toby) for extended periods of time so Hurley and I can go on cool trips. The book takes place in the early 60's (when I was just a wee lass...practicing to go to Scotland next month) with a doctor's wife delivering twins unexpectedly at his office during a snow storm. The second twin, born while the mother was in a haze of ether or whatever was used in those days, was born with Down's Syndrome. The decisions that ensue have long term effects on the doctor, his wife, the children and the nurse who assisted.

For those of us who came of age and had our children in the '90s fully conscious for the most part, able to detect health issues through ultrasound long before birth and certainly aware if we were having twins, the premise of this book seems so alien. But for our my mother, her high school friends, and their mothers and grandmothers, birth was not such a well-informed affair. So The Memory Keeper's Daughter provides us with a unique opportunity to view our opinions and judgments from the perspective of those of just a generation or two ago.

The Memory Keeper's Daughter, in my opinion, would make a great book group selection, especially if your book group comprises women from multiple generations.

Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen

This is kind of strange...I really am a fiction reader. Geek that I am, I can tell you that since I started keeping track in 1997 fully 75.83% of my reading has been fiction. However, this will be the 7th book I have reviewed and only 2 so far have been fiction (for my fellow geeks, that's only 28.57%). I don't know what this plunge into reality of late is all about. Please comment if you think you have an answer.

In any case, as I was contemplating Ernesto who may not really be a hurricane, I finished the last pages of Julie & Julia by Julie Powell. As Julie struggled to finish those last recipes as the 365th day of "the project" approached, I struggled to decide whether to stay here in Boca or flee north to Merritt Island. While Julie's loyal fans were urging her and encouraging her, my husband was packing to fly to Minneapolis for a business trip leaving me, Ernesto, two children and a dog. Finished the book...haven't made my decision yet.

Julie Powell , a self-described "government drone" dreading the impending "big 3-0", counting the ticks of her biological clock and contemplating the deep ennui of her job, decides to embark on the project of preparing every one of the 524 recipes included in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. 1 in an ambitious 365 days. Child's book revolutionized cooking for untold millions of American housewives (you really MUST click on that link, it's brilliant!) long before the advent of low fat, fusion, Pam, bread machines or mango chutney. Her "Year of Cooking Dangerously" becomes a hilarious combination of frustrating failures and surprising successes and was detailed on a daily blog that attracted a loyal following of "bleaders" (blog readers).

What other book involves boning a duck, excessive vodka gimlets, The Joy of Sex, more aspic than most humans consume in a lifetime, the preparation and consumption of every possible internal organ of various mammals, marital discord, parental disapproval, mice fed to live snakes and disgusting plumbing disasters? I know, you can hardly wait to go out and buy this one! Julie makes it fun, makes you take the plunge with her, brings you to the brink of culinary disaster and makes you almost taste every bite. From the moment her first aspic fails to gel to the first one-handed crepe flip, Julie has you rooting for her success, encouraging her to soldier on and biting your nails that she might not make it.

The best part is that her book-ization of her blog has transformed her from government drone to pajama-wearing writer.  So go fix yourself a vodka gimlet and toast Julie while fantasizing about the tantalizing taste of her next writing effort!

Impending Hurricane

To my faithful readers: There is a hurricane threatening here in South Florida. Most people right now are out filling up their gas tanks and getting food and water at Publix. I, however, am spending my time making sure that my faithful "bleaders" (that's blog readers in Julie-speak from Julie & Julia  which will probably be the next book I review) know that if I don't update for a few days it means that we are out of power, off-line and being driven crazy by children whose school has ALREADY BEEN CANCELED FOR TOMORROW!!!!

I just got back from meeting with my Book Group at Barnes & Noble where we collectively lamented the school cancellation and discussed our readiness for another hurricane along with our selections Never Let Me Go (which you will notice does NOT appear to your left on my list of favorite books) and Birth of Venus (which may eventually appear there if I get around to blogging about it). Now, as for my Book Group (definitely click on the above link) we may not read Anna Karenina in the original Russian and we don't quote bons mots from the complete works of Jane Austen...but we have to be the best LOOKING Book Group you've ever seen. Sheree and I are the token brunettes, allowed in for the sake of diversity, I guess. Now I understand why Sheree invited me to join! She was overwhelmed by the blondeness!

After a long and arduous discussion and I'm sure some internal eye-rolling when I kept saying, "Sorry, I've already read that" we decided on The Last Days of Dogtown for our next book. In any case, with this hurricane threatening, I may not have enough food or water, but thanks to two Amazon deliveries Friday and Saturday, I have plenty of books!!!

Keep us in your thoughts!!!! I'll blog as soon as I can!!!! Please note that my level of stress is directly proportional to the number of exclamation points I use!!!!!! And one final thought.....

I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman

Nora Ephron. What can you say about a woman who lived Heartburn, wrote the novel and then wrote the screenplay for the movie? I mean, her words have been spoken by Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson for God's sake. Not only that, but she wrote one of the first movies Hurley and I ever saw together, When Harry Met Sally. So, yes, she wrote the line, "I'll have what she's having!" and "You're the worst kind. You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance." and the best line of all, "I'm not your consolation prize." If I had a nickel for every time I used that line... She's done a few other things too...but you can read about those on the book jacket. I only know lines by heart from WHMS.

So, when my Amazon boxes were getting here with the speed of three legged turtles and I was having apoplexy about my booklessness, I visited Barnes & Noble and there on one of the first tables was the bright yellow cover (which reminded me of my old laundry room) of I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts On Being A Woman. I got home having tons of things to do, but then my husband pissed me off by coming back from a trip and immediately commenting on everything that was wrong with the house, the yard, me, etc. (I know, he looked so cute in that picture in the above link) so I very maturely reacted by going on strike. I started reading and by page 15 I was writing this blog in my head, mentally ordering a copy for Paula and Dricka and wondering how Nora does it?

Now, I personally thought my neck was just fine until Nora informed me that my neck started to go at 43 (I am now 44). And I didn't appreciate it. I never looked in the mirror for just an extra few seconds to admire how taut and pretty those few inches between my collar bones and my chin were. But I guess it's all over now! And soon I am going to be clad in turtlenecks and scarves to hide the hideousness of my neck which can only seem to be described using bird-related adjectives. Now remember, I live in Boca so I am clearly going to have to move north soon because there only about four days a year here when a turtleneck would be comfortable.

Next chapter was I Hate My Purse...I really thought I was the only woman in the world who hated my purse and yet somehow Nora seems to have visited the depths of my purse and come out with an embarrassing list of what it holds!

And later on there was Blind as a Bat. And no, I am not going to tell you all of the things I now know about bat removal thanks to the large colony that decided to call our rental house home, sharing their stench with the delightful people who are renting it and dive-bombing their lovely 16 year old daughter. I sort of thought the whole farsighted-after-forty thing missed me. I mean, it should since I spent most of my life with vision that was so bad they stopped measuring it at 20:600...I couldn't see the big "E" on the chart, OK? But, on the very day that I read this chapter, I bought an I-Pod  for my aforementioned husband only to find out that I could only guess at the 11 digits that comprised the serial number which is essential to registering the thing online. And you know I have to do that because you know he is going to leave it on a plane sometime in the next several months and registration is going to somehow help us to get it back. So I have now officially entered the farsighted-after-forty zone and Nora has made me laugh about it.

Although Nora Ephron is in her mid-60's, this book will appeal to any woman who is over 40 or thinking about being over 40 or thinking about ultimately being in one's 60's. Nora Ephron says what we wished we had thought of saying with a wit that we wish we had. Brilliant!

Back to Books .... Maybe Monday

The response to the 15th Anniversary post was overwhelming, so I skipped a day and basked in the comments. So much fun to hear from everyone from my niece who went from the little flower girl to a gorgeous woman in the ensuing years to people who didn't even know us then to people who have just met us. I think I will probably not be a weekend blogger...RJ has a baseball game, we're having friends over Saturday but I'm certain I will have a book blog ready for Monday especially if the book I'm reading now continues to enthrall me.

So, just so you have something to read and I have something to do while Hurley watches Pittsburgh and Philadelphia play football, and clicks incessantly between plays I will post a wee blogette...a blogacita for my Spanish speaking readers.

Rory's 5th grade teacher, for the sake of anonymity and because I haven't gotten her permission, we'll call her Ms. Branch, is really making a difference in his life. She has a great attitude toward the kids and a contagious enthusiasm in the classroom. She has incorporated yoga into their daily schedule, teaching them various poses each morning. Rory comes home and shows us what he has learned and is so proud of his Warrior Pose. This morning Rory had a bit of a stuffy nose. He told me in a tone more reverent than that of many fundamentalist Christian preachers quoting the gospel (and I know of what I speak, we lived in NC for 6 years), "I don't know if I can do yoga today. Ms. Branch said that it is all about breathing and focus."

Now, I know Ms. Branch is cuter than I am and she has power tools like chalk and probably an overhead projector, but I gave birth to this boy. He has been in 5th grade for just over a week (I have had him for well over 11 years if you count gestation and I do because I still have the stretch marks to show for it) and she has made this much of an impression that he is quoting her verbatim and starting his day considering how his congested nose will affect his ability to please her. I have told Rory every single day (sometimes many times in the same day) to fill up Toby's food and water, but somehow it doesn't get done. Asked him to bring his laundry to the laundry room three times on Sunday and Monday morning....didn't get done. But breathing and focus has sunk in.

Do you think Ms. Branch would come to my house? Or tape her voice telling Rory to do the things I need him to do????

Di

 

Happy Anniversary Baby Gotcha on My Mind

Today marks 15 years since Hurley and I said our vows in front of a small group of close friends and family with Rabbi Rami Shapiro presiding...we got married by the coolest Rabbi on earth...at Temple Beth Or in Miami.

Our wedding celebration luau was held in Key Largo the next day. I think the happiest people were Rita (Hurley's Mom...pictured with Uncle Sherm and Aunt Elaine), Jim and Mary Ann (my parents). My parents had visions of grandchildren dancing in their heads. And I think Rita was just happy that it was now someone else's job to figure out which of Hurley's socks were blue and which were black (he's really touchy about that).

Of course there was fine entertainment. And following tradition, the best man gave a toast that brought a tear to the eye and even quoted Hurley's favorite poet (Mike, you really didn't mean to call me a tramp, right?) Like any married couple, we've had our ups and downs and made our share of mistakes. Hurley even made a small error in judgment that very day. Somehow through 15 years of way too many moves, two children and all the laundry issues (it's a little known fact that laundry is the main cause of divorce in the US), we are still together!

Today, I woke up and he was in Toronto in a business meeting when I called him at 6:30 a.m. to wish him a happy anniversary. It occurred to me that by some miracle, I actually weigh 7 pounds less than I did the day we got married. So I tried on the dress and e-mailed it to Hurley (now, don't get me wrong, I could not zip it all the way up the weight may be less, but it's distributed way differently...dontcha just LOVE the shoulder pads...Krystal Carrington, eat your heart out). He said, "Where was that taken?" I said, "In the back yard in front of the orchids." He said, "That was today? I thought that was a picture from 15 years ago!" I think I love him more today than I did 15 years ago!

Crossworld

Like so many books I read, Crossworld: One Man's Journey into America's Crossword Obsession by Marc Romano was a recommendation gleaned from Bookmarks Magazine. For any voracious reader, Bookmarks is a must. In addition to current books and blurbs from a variety of review sources, it has classics, guides to certain authors, descriptions of book groups and what they are reading and very little advertising. I get a little shiver every other month when I see its familiar masthead in my pile of mail.

To preface my review, I come from a long line of crossword puzzle fanatics. My grandfather, Albert Miller , did the crossword in the Utica Observer Dispatch every day until he was in his late 80's. My father, Jim Miller , can be seen every morning on the couch with his glasses on his head, doing the crossword. I remember when Dell was a crossword puzzle magazine and not a major employer of Indians with mysteriously American names. I'm picturing the cute guy in The English Patient, who plays Kip and the Dell customer service guy tells me his name is Andy. Anyway, I spent lots of my babysitting money on those Dell Crossword magazines and reached a point where I would skip the easy ones and go straight to medium and hard.

When I ended up in South Florida, the Miami Herald had the Sunday New York Times Crossword in the Sunday Tropic Magazine. It was the prior week's puzzle, but who cared, we didn't have internet back then. And no my darling children we didn't have DVD's, X-Box or McGriddle sandwiches either. Surprisingly we survived. I would work at that puzzle until I triumphantly finished it (not in pen, thanks anyway) or until I gave up in despair and tossed it in the trash (we didn't recycle then either...here's me taking the hit for global warming...used aerosol hairspray on my way pouffed hair in the '80s as well).

As the years went by I got better and better at it and then the Internet came and now for a mere $34.95 per year, one can have unlimited access to the New York Times Crossword, including current puzzles and years and years of archives. So each week I print it out and putter away...finishing it by the end of Sunday (not in the hour that Amy optimistically attributed to me) meant it was going to be a good week...and spaces left blank meant uncertainty and danger lurked with the dawn of Monday.

Enough about me, fascinating though I am. Marc Romano decided to immerse himself in the fanatic, fiercely loyal, fastidious world of the NY Times puzzle. He spoke to and learned about the Editor-for-Life, Will Shortz who took over from then head maven of crosswords Eugene T. Maleska. He became friendly with some of the puzzle creators and knew intimately the nuances of what differentiates one puzzle creator's work from another. He researched and discovered the surprisingly short history of crosswords, dating only to the early 20th century (alas, no crosswords on the cave walls). He even practiced, prepared himself and competed in the American Crossword Puzzle Tournament  in Stamford, CT. There he came face to face with some of the faceless millions who solve (or at least try to solve) the NY Times Crossword every day...except these people do it at warp speed whipping off an easy Monday puzzle in two minutes and maybe taking as many as 16 minutes to solve the larger more challenging Sunday puzzle.

The book is fascinating to anyone who does crosswords regularly or someone who is completely mystified as to why one would waste one's time on such a silly endeavor. Read it and think of my Grampa Miller!

Di

The End of the World???

Amazon is down. I repeat, Amazon is down. I visit the Amazon web site pretty much hourly and have for the past several years and it is down. I am very concerned. In addition to the fact that I wanted to order a book to send to a friend NOW, that's where I get the ISBN numbers that let me add the thumbnail of the book to my blog. So I can't bookblog today. Could this be a harbinger of the end, the rapture (hmmm....I haven't been called up, go figure...has to be those times in high school when I went to Saturday night mass just to see what everyone was doing on Saturday night), the apocalypse (I love the smell of napalm in the morning).

Just so you know what's coming if Amazon ever returns, Amy inspired me with her comment about me doing the New York Times Crossword in an hour (maybe if I focused on it non-stop for an hour, but I haven't focused on anything non-stop for an hour since 1993 when Haley was born) so the next book will be Crossworld by Marc Romano.

So, instead I will post this picture.
It is Rory and Haley with their cousin Ashley. Ashley was a wee 7 year old when she was a flower girl in my wedding 15 years ago this Wednesday (which we will be celebrating by Hurley being on a business trip in Toronto). She is now a senior at UCF and has some misguided notion that UCF is going to beat Florida this year.

Again, like Jude she is not related to me by blood so just as I didn't get Jude's golf swing genetically, I don't get Ashley's tallness, thinness and prettiness genetically either! But she takes Haley shopping for me and even takes me shopping sometimes...and we love her!

Not much more to report until Amazon comes back except for the following observations, complaints, rants or whines:

1. Why would OPI (Amy, OPI is a nail polish company) discontinue an amazing color like Deer Valley Spice? I'm thinking of buying up all the bottles remaining on E-Bay.

2. I think I have nothing to read. Clearly the 12 books sitting at my bedside are not sufficient and my latest infusion of Amazon has yet to arrive. Did I mention that Amazon is down???

3. I got a new battery for my laptop...so now it's like a real laptop where I can sit anywhere and "work" on it and not have to be plugged in.

4. I'm going to Sports Authority to get sneakers for me and Rory. I will pick mine out in five minutes and they will cost less than $50. Rory will try on 10 pairs, end up asking for the first pair he tried on, they will cost over $75 and I will refuse on the grounds that he will outgrow them long before he wears them out, he will insist that no other sneakers fit/look good/feel good/are cool enough for school, I will give in as soon as my retailphobia kicks in and I find myself needing to go home and have a Valium. Maybe I should put the Valium in my purse...plan ahead.

5. To Amy who seems to think I wear make-up every day...if I do, it's usually because I haven't taken a shower since the last time I wore make-up and it's still hanging on, especially the so-five-minutes-from-now raccoon eyes look from the slept-in mascara.

If Amazon comes back, I'll be back. If not...good luck to all...hope you have stocked lots of canned goods. I'm so glad Peggy just got a generator!!!

Di

Kitchen Table Wisdom

The majority of my reading is fiction. If I read non-fiction, it's usually a memoir or historical piece that reads like fiction. I DEFINITELY steer clear of anything that could be labeled self-help (who needs help when you are perfect like me), spiritual or earthy crunchy. But I made a very good exception with Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen, MD. First let me tell you why it occurred to me to post on this now since I finished it several months ago.

Yesterday I was visiting Mo whose misfortune (her house burning down) became my fortune (she rented our house AND we have become friends...despite the fact that the house turned out to have bats, one of which dive-bombed her 16-year old daughter's head). Now, just to give you a glimpse of Mo, she is a breast cancer survivor and if they ever change the phrase to "Breast Cancer Thriver", she will be the poster woman (although she might have to share poster space with my friend Virginia who beat breast cancer to a pulp and got beautiful curly hair as a bonus!) Mo mentioned to me that she had recently gone on a physical spiritual retreat and we were talking about what kinds of books we read. So given her history as well as her interest in the interplay of the physical and spiritual, I recommended Kitchen Table Wisdom...and I hope she reads it.

Dr. Remen started her career as a physician with a knack for empathy and dealing with the patients other doctors didn't know what to do with because they were crying or raging over their terminal diagnosis. They don't teach empathy in medical school and many doctors are great diagnosticians and treaters of illness, they are left stymied by the emotions of their patients. She has morphed into a doctor who counsels people who are struggling with serious illnesses. Suffering from Crohn's disease, Dr. Remen has a personal as well as professional stake in what she does. The stories she shares in her book share a common thread of an emphasis on the strength of the human mind and the human will in the face of disease and adversity.

It's a great book to carry in your purse or your car to read in bits and pieces while at a stoplight (no, I would never read at a stoplight, I am much too busy talking on my cell phone and applying make-up!) or in the waiting room at the orthodontist (where he seemingly earns his keep putting colorful bands on my child's braces every couple of months...and mysteriously plunges an inordinate amount of his profits into aquariums {aquaria?} that cost more than my house...furnishings and all). Did I digress again?

Kitchen Table Wisdome was recommended to me by psychologist, Dr. Ana Brand (a graduate of University of Florida - GO GATORS), who knows I love "homework". I devoured it in a couple days leaving my tattered copy riddled with hot pink highlighting...mostly of pithy, insightful passages that I think should be needlepointed on a pillow or something. Some examples:

"...the most basic and powerful way to connect to another person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever give each other is our attention."

"Wholeness lies beyond perfection."

"In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our wish for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength...Without impermanence, there is no process. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on process."

"...all love is unconditional. Anything else is just approval."

As a loquaicious, perfectionist, control-freak with an inexplicable need for approval, these quotations speak to me and the stories that contain them make them resonate within me. If you have ever had a serious illness, loved someone with a serious illness or considered the impact of serious illness on one's life, this book will give you perspective, strength and inspiration.

Di