Brunch with a side of Bookstore. Perfect.

Sometimes you have just the perfect sort of day.   It starts with waking up from a great sleep.  My normal is to wake up to a screaming bladder about 4:00 am.  Eyes wide open.  Brain ready to roll.  And Jus' Kid'n thinking it's time for breakfast.  Today, I rolled over and fell back to sleep.  Perfect. 

Rick had reservations for brunch at a secret location.  He asked me to keep my eyes closed as he drove.  I didn't peek, but I did try to guess.  I leaned in to the turns, listened for the rushing traffic as we entered the freeway, noted the diminished light as we went under overpasses.  I almost guessed it, but I thought we were across the street from ... Napa Tavern in Westlake Village.

The company was ideal; the conversation interesting; the mimosa was sparkling; the array of food was deliciously varied; the coffee was hot; and I didn't eat too many desserts.  Perfect.

If I had to choose a favorite spot to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon, I'd probably always choose a bookstore.  Ah-ha!  Lucky me!  Barnes and Nobles was a short minute away!  This visit, I decided to browse the magazines.  I actually never made it past two shelves on one rack.  In short order, I found more than a dozen magazines that were calling my name.  The magazines and I retired to a well-lit corner and a comfy chair.  Perfect. 

I brought home a few "crafty" magazines and a "boxful of words."  I love words.   

I can't wait to get started!  Look at all the fun contained in those magazines: 350+30+230+400+ probably too many to count in the Paper magazine. I'm sure I can think of some interesting word play, too.  Hours and hours of fun to be had!!!  Perfect.

But wait, there's more!  Check out that low Shanghai Rummy score!  I won the card game! 

The night's not over.  There's a bit of knitting to be done on the Brandywine Shawl.  And a pretty good book waiting in my Kindle.


Perfect.

 

When We Were Orphans - Book Review

Published:  2000

It's about:  As a small child living in Shanghai, Christopher Banks is orphaned.  First his father disappears and, within weeks, his mother does as well. 

I thought:  Orphans Sarah and Jennifer weren't as fleshed out as they could have been.  I
Verdict:  ★★★
It started out strong.  Once Christopher Banks arrived in Shanghai to "rescue" his missing parents, he lost me.  I had a tough time getting through the book. 

Reading recommendation:  Probably not.  You'll like Ishiguro much better if you read "Never Let me Go". 

Favorite Quotes:  "Perhaps there are those who are able to go about their lives unfettered by such concerns. But for those like us, our fate is to face the world as orphans, chasing through long years the shadows of vanished parents. There is nothing for it but to try and see through our missions to the end, as best we can, for until we do so, we will be permitted no calm."

“All I know is that I've wasted all these years looking for something, a sort of trophy I'd get only if I really, really did enough to deserve it. But I don't want it anymore, I want something else now, something warm and sheltering, something I can turn to, regardless of what I do, regardless of who I become. Something that will just be there, always, like tomorrow's sky. That's what I want now, and I think it's what you should want too. But it will be too late soon. We'll become too set to change. If we don't take our chance now, another may never come for either of us.” 

ME - My Love of True Crime, Mysteries and Scary Movies

How did I get to be me?  What influenced me?  Who influenced me?  I'm looking for specifics here ... not the generality of my Catholic school education nor my belief in a Higher Power.  This won't be an ongoing treatise on religious or political leanings.  Well, maybe you'll hear about them at some point.  Of course you will, who am I kidding?  I'm going to explore  ~ go on an archeological dig, so to speak ~ let's see what I excavate.   

I think I'll take it slow and choose a different facet of myself every week or two.

My love of true crime, mysteries, and scary movies. 

The seed was probably planted by the second movie I ever saw, "House on a Haunted Hill," 1959.   (I'll tell you about the first movie another day).

Quick synopsis:  a rich guy and his wife invite a handful of people to their home on Haunted Hill for a haunted house party.  Whoever stays all night will earn $10,000 (seems like a paltry sum today).   Turns out they can't actually leave.  The movie provides every flavor of fright:  skeletons, murder, dead people, mayhem and that staple of the scary movie: blood-curdling screams.

I was nine years old and loved every minute of it.   I remember the skeleton that was suspended from a wire in the theater and was released to fly over our heads ~ at the scene in the film where it was calculated to cause the most fear.  I remember the exact moment when one of the female stars opened her overnight bag to find the severed head of one of the House's other guests.  I remember the music building to a crescendo every time something frightening was about to happen.  I remember the smooth but oh-so-sinister tone of Vincent Price's voice.  Yes, still today, I can conjure it up and remember how it was to be nine and scared silly.

Then I discovered Edgar Allen Poe.  I couldn't get enough of him.  The Tell Tale Heart.  The Pendulum.  The Gold Bug.  The Purloined Letter.  The Masque of the Red Death.   Cask of Amontillado.  The Black Cat.  The Murders in the Rue Morgue.  Those are just the titles that come to mind in an instant.  For sure, The Raven. 

The rumors surrounding his life, lifestyle and death left me aghast, but they served to heighten the intrigue.  He had married his 14-year old cousin.  He was a derelict.  He died in a drunken stupor.  Oh, I should have mentioned that I was 13 years old.  So impressionable.  And impress me he did. 

This man will figure again in the unfolding of ME.  Nope, no hints. 

By the time I read this book, probably in 1967 or 1968 (age 17 or 18), I was already a voracious reader. 

In eighth grade I decided to read every non-fiction author (alphabetically) that my small public library branch had to offer.  I had read through Thomas B. Costain's The Black Robe and The Silver Chalice before I got distracted and started haphazardly choosing titles from all over that building. 

Somehow I got my hands on In Cold Blood.  Mr. Capote allowed me to be the fly on the wall.  I was in on the planning, the execution (no pun intended) and the aftermath of the crime: the home invasion, burglary and murder of a family of four in Kansas.  I was in the mind of the criminal; I was the innocent victim; I was law enforcement, judge and jury. 

With Helter Skelter (read in 1976 or 1977), my fascination ~ um, obsession ~ with true crime came into full bloom.  On occasion, I still "google" Charles Manson, Patricia Kernwinkel, Squeaky Fromme, Charles Watson.

Yes, I watched "live" as O. J. Simpson drove the Golden State Freeway in his white Bronco.  I lunched at Mezzaluna and drove by Nicole Brown Simpson's condo and peeked over O. J.'s back fence.  I've cheered as countless murderers have been found "guilty" and second-guessed the jury when they weren't (Scott Peterson on death row; Casey Anthony scott-free). 

Travis Alexander Home, Mesa, AZ
March 31, 2013



You guessed it ... today I'm fixated with the Jodi Arias case.

The Green & Green Grass of Home



February 7, 2013

 I knew it was bad, but I was trying to be patient.  Or maybe I was just in denial.  And then the missionary who rang my doorbell didn't even try to convert me to whatever it was he was selling.  He even forgot to hand me the tract he had in hand.  Instead he said, "Can I ask you a question?  I can see that you just re-did your front lawn.  Is it supposed to look like this?  A striped lawn?"  He was really embarrassed to ask, he said, but he thought that maybe, in this neighborhood, it was something new and cool. 

Confronted this way, by a religious person, the truth could not be avoided.   "No," I said, "it's not supposed to look that way.  It just turned out awful."  I might have been holding back tears. 

Now what?

April 7, 2013

Well, the landscaper overseeded the old grass, watered every day like crazy, overseeded one more time, added fertilizer and watered some more.   He suggested we wait a few weeks.  If it doesn't improve dramatically, we'll have to take drastic (and more expensive measures).

We waited two months.  Here's what it looks like now.  It does look better, doesn't it?  Maybe the missionary fellow should stop by one more time and be brutally inquisitive. 

Meantime, we have a patchwork quilt of greens.  Final outcome still pending. 

   



Night ~ Book Review

Published:  Most recent publication, translation by Marion Wiesel, 2006

It's about:  Elie Wiesel tells his own holocaust survivor's story.  At the age of 15, Elie Wiesel, a Hungarian Jew, and his family are gathered up into a cattle car and transported to Birkenau, Germany.  Upon their arrival, his mother and sisters are separated from Elie and his father.  His mother and youngest sister, Tzipora, are never seen again and it's inferred that they perished in the crematoriums.  Elie and his father suffer humiliation, beatings, forced labor and starvation at Birkenau, Buna and Auschwitz.  His father is ultimately killed in the crematorium at Auschwitz, just weeks before it is liberated by Americans.  No mention is made of the fate of his other two sisters, Hilda and Beatrice. (I researched.  They survived). 

The story is particularly poignant because Elie suffers not only at the hands of the SS, but suffers his own internal crisis of faith.  At the beginning of his memoir, Elie is a teenager dedicated to his Jewish faith, to his study of the Talmud and to his desire to grow in spirituality.  His experiences cause him to doubt the existence of God. 

I thought:  There can never be enough reminders about the horrors of the Holocaust.  This is one of the least graphic that I have read, but it nevertheless reminded me that we are capable of unimaginable atrocities in the name of race and religion.  It is a call to action:  we must take a stand against oppression of any kind.    

Verdict: ★★★★★
There is some controversy as to whether this lastest translation is "consistent" with the original text published in 1958.  The current translation makes corrections to dates and ages, leading some to suspect its authenticity.  The author maintains that the changes were made to make it as truthful as possible.  Night is published as a memoir. 

Reading recommendation:  Read it.  You won't forget it.  It's a quick read; a mere 120 pages, including the text of Elie Wiesel's Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech (1986).

Favorite Quotes: “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere. When human lives are endangered, when human dignity is in jeopardy, national borders and sensitivities become irrelevant."

“Human suffering anywhere concerns men and women everywhere.”

"Blessed be God's name? Why, but why would I bless Him? Every fiber in me rebelled. Because He caused thousands of children to burn in His mass graves? Because he kept six crematoria working day and night, including Sabbath and the Holy Days? Because in His great might, He had created Auschwitz, Birkenau, Buna, and so many other factories of death? How could I say to Him: Blessed be Thou, Almighty, Master of the Universe, who chose us among all nations to be tortured day and night, to watch as our fathers, our mothers, our brothers, end up in the furnaces? Praised be Thy Holy Name, for having chosen us to be slaughtered on Thine altar?”   

Looking Forward - April

April's shaping up to be a pretty busy month.  So busy, in fact, that just today I've found a moment to reflect on March and plan my April happenings.

Travel
> a six-day getaway ~ with my favorite guy ~ to Colorado
Celebrations
> it's an important birthday for that same favorite guy!  Wonder if he'll start lying about his age now?
> our daughter ~ BSH ~ is having a birthday, too
> gotta plan a virtual baby shower for my cousin, Indi ~ it's her first baby
Art/Crafting
> one class/week at local knitting shop and "homework" in between
> complete design of the first "greeting card" in my packet
Family Time
> looking forward to the visit by our son and grandson (DS1 and JS1) at the end of this month - plan a party?
Genealogy
> join a local genealogical society
> spend at least two hours each week on focused genealogy research
Reading
> I'm behind on my 2013 book list ~ gotta catch up!!
Exercise and Health
> identify neck/back physician and make an appointment
> get that yearly exam scheduled
> ahoulder-strengthening exercises 5x a week
> walk at least 3x a week
Making our Home a Home
> identify some possibilities for that empty family room wall
> hang that mirror!
> guest bedroom could use a make-over
> what about that outdoor seating area?  ~ decide on the benches!
> family photos - previous two generations ~ choose the photos
Personal Challenges
> research the Project 333 Wardrobe Challenge
> limit computer/iPad goof-off time to one hour a day
> healthy eating might just shave off one or two extra pounds

And as for March ....

It roared in and every minute of it was fun with a capital "F."  I completed two knitting projects, kept up with my reading and started my blog! 

Our eldest grandson and his girl visited and much enjoyment was had playing Shanghai Rummy (I won!!) and Ticket to Ride (Rick won ~ notice that didn't merit a single exclamation point). 

Most exciting of all:  getting to spend nearly three weeks in my favorite place:  Arizona.  I love the heat.  I can feel the energy seeping into my skin, my brain, my very being.  That place just makes me happy.  Don't know what it is, but I do love it there.  Highlights of our visit included a rock star celebration of Emma's 10th birthday, our Peeps Party, a nostalgic visit to Jerome and Easter Sunday brunch at the Wrigley Mansion.  We were able to take an evening to socialize with new neighbors.  I'm definitely looking forward to another trip in May. 

     

Xeriscape

Xeriscape. I love that word. When I didn't know what it meant, I imagined a kaleidescope of color and textures, swirls of motion, something exotic.

"Xeri" means dry.  Dry landscape. Now it wasn't sounding so pretty after all. Who'd want to do that!?! Uh, me. Along with lots of other southwesterners. If you live in a drought-prone state, you know what I'm talking about! California, Texas, Nevada, Colorado all promote xeriscaping. New Mexico has an actual Xeriscape Council. Yes! Go home-state Land of Enchantment!!!

Wanna see what it looks like? I took a walk yesterday through my Arizona neighborhood and this is a sampling of what I saw:


 

Definitely a kaleidescope of textures and colors. Exotic cactus. What is that thing in the middle? The golf course is eco-conscious as well. Those are native grasses surrounding the fairway. The photo definitely doesn't do them justice ~ they're tall and wave gently in the breeze.

 

Where are the sounds, you ask? Well, of an evening you'll hear owls and coyotes. If you could get a closeup of the saguaro (tall cactus, lower right), you'd see that the woodpeckers have tap-tap-tapped their way inside. Can't you hear the skitttering quail and the beep-beep of the roadrunner as it zooms its way across the street in the background?

 

You better keep your eyes wide-open. You wouldn't want to miss that silent, sneaky scorpion waving it's venomous tail as it approaches.  

Xeriscape. Beautiful indeed.



The Secret Keeper - Book Review

Published:  2012

It's about:  As the book opens in 1961, we are introduced to 16-year old Laurel who witnesses a crime from the vantage point of her childhood tree house.  Fifty years later, Laurel, a well-established and successful actress, is still trying to come to terms with the repercussions of what she witnessed.  As her mother (Dorothy) lays dying, Laurel searches for answers to the questions that haunt her. 

As the mystery is disentangled, we are transported to war-torn London in 1941, to the crime and the subsequent requisite secrecy in 1961, and to Laurel's desperate quest for answers in 2011.  We are riveted by the main characters: Laurel, Dorothy, Vivien and Jimmy.  We are drawn into their lives, their dreams, their disappointments, their hopes.  We have no choice -- the characters are realistically depicted and well-developed.

I thought:  As a reader, I "became" Laurel, then Dorothy, then Vivien.  What a jolt it was when I realized that I wasn't who I thought I was.  

Verdict:   ★★★★★
I loved this book. I couldn't wait to find out what would happen.  I'm usually pretty good at figuring out how the story will end.  I was stunned by the twist.

Reading Recommendation:  It's a riveting mystery novel.  You won't want to put it down.

Favorite Quotes:  “And as the train whistled its imminent departure, a small girl wearing neat plaits and someone else's shoes climbed its iron stairs. Smoke filled the platform, people waved and hollered, a stray dog ran barking through the crowds. Nobody noticed as the little girl stepped over the shadowed threshold; not even Aunt Ada, who some might've expected to be sheperherding her orphaned niece towards her uncertain future. And so, when the essence of light and life that had been Vivien Longmeyer contracted itself for safekeeping and disappeared deep inside her, the world kept moving and nobody saw it happen.” 

“... people who'd led dull and blameless lives did not give thanks for second chances.”

Rediscover a House of Joy

Forty-one years ago, in my last life (when I get around to writing a memoir, it will not be in chapters, but in "lives"), I dined at House of Joy in Jerome, Arizona.  It had opened in 1969 in a building that once housed a brothel (1912-1946) in this once-booming copper-mining town.  In 1969, Jerome was virtually a ghost town, nestled in the switchbacks of the hillside overlooking Camp Verde, and a two hour drive from Phoenix.  John did the cooking and Conde Nast named it one of the top 100 restaurants in the U.S.   So, after booking a reservation many weeks in advance for one of the four or five tables at House of Joy, I experienced the best cuisine of my life - ever! 

Last Sunday, I decided to take Marisa to Jerome to experience the magnificence of a meal at House of Joy. 

And there it was, exactly as I remembered it.  Except, it wasn't. 

It was no longer a restaurant.  It had been re-born as a rather campy gift shop.  If you're in the market for a corset, or fish-net stockings, or a belly dancer's bangled belt, here is where you'll find it. 

Disappointment turned into surprise as I learned that John and Mary still own the shop.  Misfortune befell about 14 years ago.  John, an avid bicyclist, had a life-threatening accident.  Doctors predicted that he would never walk again.  So the restaurant was closed and re-opened as a gift shop.

Mary runs the shop.  I purchased a trinket or two and she beamed as I told her that I had yet to experience an escargot any tastier than that which John had prepared in 1972.  

Marisa stepped outside while I chatted with Mary.  When I joined her, she was deep in conversation with ... none other than 91-year old John.

He is indescribable!  He clearly proved the doctors wrong.  He rides his bicycle down the mountain, 25 miles to Sedona, and 25 miles back.  Yes, he rides not walks, up the mountain.  Every day.

He revels in his new role as the town character.  He told us that Mary keeps him out of the shop and away from shoppers.  And no wonder!  To say that most of his conversation bordered on the politically incorrect would be an understatement.  He invited Marisa to call ahead next time she was planning a visit to Jerome and he'd bake her some muffins.   In spite of - or maybe because of - his colorful peersonality, she accepted. 

Jerome is no longer a ghost town.  Knit 1 Bead 2 inspired a knitted shawl.  I've started it already.  The artistry of the felted hats, scarves and wraps at Roberge & Day emboldened me to try my hand at felting raw fibers.  I'll need to take a class first.  The Mexican food at Quince was delicious.  The accommodations, the inn-keeper, and the view from our master suite at the Surgeon's House were excellent. 














Nothing, however, could compare to rediscovering House of Joy.

Spring is the perfect time to begin

Arizona is absolutely where I should be this time of year. The earth is radiating heat. You can feel the warmth through your shoes. You can feel the sunshine on your face. The cacti are blooming; the birds are chirping; the rabbits are scurrying; the quail are racing across the street. Oh! And the golf balls are once again missing the fairway and finding their way into our yard. 

 

In honor of the season - and since Lexi and Emma were leaving to spend Spring Break with their Dad - we decided to have a Peeps Party. For days we gathered our supplies: Peeps and more Peeps: yellow, hot pink, light pink, yellow, purple, and blue Peeps. We visited Lowes and gathered our favorite spring-color paint chips. We found speckled jelly beans at Target; push-pop forms at Michael's. We traced and cut and arranged. 

 

   

Emma created this pretty little centerpiece for our Peeps Party. 

 

 

 

Lexi cut the bunny Peeps from paint chips, strung them on a pink ribbon and hung them across the window.  Rick got in on the action by helping us get just the right shade of green for the pudding layers in the push pops.  He especially enjoyed the chocolate-covered pretzel nests. 

 

 

Jaclyn joined the fun from St. Louis, by contributing this racecar Peep idea.

 

Did I mention that I don't like Peeps?  But Marisa does!  She took home dozens of leftover Peeps.  I have it on good authority they're hidden within easy reach in case hunger strikes at midnight.  She'll be on a sugar-high for weeks.

 

So there you have it.  Spring and my new blog have arrived.  Let's see where they take us.