Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Today was likely the coldest day we’ll see this week–possibly the coldest day we’ll see until fall–and so I decreed it a soup day. What soup to have, though? We’re low on milk, so that was out as an ingredient (unless I wanted to shop, which I most emphatically didn’t), and ditto for potatoes. I scrolled through quite a number of recipes on my Soup board before hitting upon this 20-Minute Cheesy Chicken Enchilada Soup and deciding it would fit the bill nicely. True, we ended up going topping-less, but it was still a satisfying bowlful. I did add a can of corn to bulk up the veggies; I also made the linked recipe for homemade enchilada sauce, using two tablespoons of chili powder instead of 4 (we’re wimps, and I didn’t want to take any chances) and then one of smoked paprika to help make up for it. If you’re looking for a nice, easy soup to add to your repertoire, this is definitely a keeper. (Even my second girlie, who throws the word spicy around as easily as a ping pong ball, gave it a thumbs middle. This was high praise for her and this flavor profile.) If any of you still have a cold day or two in your forecast–make soup!

Crunch is the third book by Leslie Connor that I’ve read–thus far–and while it doesn’t have the same KIND of feels as All Rise for the Honorable Perry T. Cook, it’s got its OWN kind, and I loved them, too. Imagine a family of three teenagers and 5-year-old twins whose parents are on an anniversary trip; imagine those parents suddenly stranded by a fuel crisis, there being no gas to be had; and imagine those teenagers left to take care of the household, each other, and the family’s side bike repair business. During a FUEL CRISIS. I wasn’t alive for the energy crunch of the 70s, so perhaps that’s why this had a slightly mythic feel for me; the family’s endeavors, difficulties, and triumphs were enthralling.

Of course, that makes Crunch sound like an epic, full of drama and pathos–and it’s not. There are athletic chickens, a sheep named Gloria Cloud, a neighbor who hovers somewhere between villainy, heroics, and just plain weirdness, and a smelly billy goat with an unintentionally altruistic streak. (Also some fabulous wordplay, including the phrase “hitchbiker”.) This is a story full of humor, frustrations, victories, and a healthy dose of making do, and who doesn’t love a book like that? (And, yes, some drama and pathos, too. It’s just plain good, folks.) You should all go grab a copy and read it–while I return my library copy and put another book by Leslie Connor on hold. It’ll be a party! In the meantime, goodnight all.

Don’t stay up too late reading.

At about the same time I was starting Forget Me Not, I also started listening to Deborah Wiles’ A Long Line of Cakes. Interestingly enough, they BOTH involve daughters who long to settle into their new homes, make friends, and stay put, but whose parents are serial movers, so to speak. They both dread leaving again, and it hangs over their heads like a visible cloud of doom.

The similarities end there, however, and that was a good thing for my state of mind. Whereas Calli’s mother in Forget Me Not is an all-too-plausible product of her previous experiences and her need to be with someone, Emma Lane Cake’s parents are loving, present, and living the life of itinerant bakers (citizens of the world!); they never go to the same town twice. When they reach Halleluia, Mississippi, however, odd moments of familiarity and knowing vie with a determination not to suffer (again) the misery of uprooting herself and parting from a best friend, and Emma is torn. This time, however, Emma isn’t the only one putting down roots; her brothers become attached in a different way than they have before, and her father’s plans and actions feel suddenly contradictory. Add Ruby Lavender to the mix–not to mention a host of other characters from Wiles’ Aurora County novels–and Emma finally might have a recipe for staying put.

I really enjoyed this one, but then, I enjoy all of Wiles’ books, so what can I say? My 10-year-old has been enjoying the Aurora County novels as well, so this one’s getting passed on to her; if you have a middle elementary schooler (or older) that’s into quirky tales of small town southern life, don’t miss these!

Tonight’s activity with the young women in our congregation involved a great deal of walking back and forth and standing around–which means that my feet are throbbing and so I’m writing this review before I do my last bit of exercising for the night instead of after. I just had to sit for a bit, you know?

Anyway. I finished reading Ellie Terry’s Forget Me Not the night before last; I was going to do an extra review last night, but sadly, I didn’t get to it. (Which means that even after this review I’m at least 5 books behind.) On the other hand, I’m getting to it now, and YOU should get to this book ASAP. Because it’s beautiful.

It’s only fair to admit that it’s a bit painfully beautiful, actually. Calli’s mother tells her to hide her tics and not tell anyone at school about her Tourette syndrome, which (of course) backfires horribly. Even more painful for me, however, is Calli’s mother’s need to be dating someone; every time a relationship goes south, she uproots her daughter and moves somewhere else. Calli hates it (as would I). When they move to St. George, Calli meets a different kind of friend than she’s ever had before. Jinsong is also in uncharted territory, and he makes some very poor choices before he starts to figure things out. How that figuring out happens–and what happens next–makes for a beautiful and poignant read. Forget Me Not is mostly a verse novel (which only makes it more beautiful), and it shouldn’t take you long. (Unless you keep putting it down because other things keep yanking at your attention.) Honestly, this book ought to be read and discussed in late elementary grades, middle schools, and junior highs everywhere; if I were teaching in any of those, I’d use it as part of a unit on compassion. Since I’m not, well…I’m highly recommending it to you.

Yeah, I’m in up to my neck now. I was too tired to deal with a book review the day after Valentines–we’d had overnight company, which was awesome, but that meant some things got put off, and then I subbed in my son’s church class on Sunday and had to prepare a lesson–and now I’ve got even more book reviews waiting to be written. At least 6? And one more book that I should finish tonight, because it’s a verse novel and I’ve only got 40 pages left?

I don’t want to talk about it.

Those reviews aren’t going to write themselves, though, are they? SO. Last night I finished listening to Stacy McAnulty’s The World Ends in April, and I have mixed feelings about it. I wanted it to be just as good as The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl, and I’m not convinced that it wasn’t; I just didn’t personally enjoy it quite as much. Maybe if I broke it down?

THE GOOD: The friendships and character growth. The bits of quirky humor. And actually, some of the prepper information.
THE NOT MY FAVORITE: The cringe factor. Eleanor’s faith in the asteroid–right up until the end–and the fallout from that was painful for me; I’ve always struggled when reading about people embarrassing themselves. That didn’t make the book less good, objectively, but it made it a less enjoyable read for me personally.

Ultimately, this story of a girl who is ready to believe in the end of the world as she knows it is a powerful one; Eleanor is disconnected at school except for Mack, her best (and only) friend, who might–just possibly–be heading off to boarding school next year. When she comes across a website that claims a miles-wide asteroid is going to hit the earth in the spring, she shares it with Mack, who shares it with others, and suddenly Eleanor is part of a “Nature” club that focuses on surviving TEOTWAWKI (the end of the world as we know it, and I defy you to think that without singing it), contemplating an illicit newsletter, and getting roped into a bucket list. How her life changes–for the better–is a bumpy but poignant journey, and one that I did enjoy. As for how it really measures up to Lightning Girl? Well…maybe I’ll wait until my girls read it to make that call. In the meantime, I’m going to go listen to some R.E.M.

I totally have more books waiting to be reviewed, folks–two sitting in front of me and two more in my bedroom. Today, however, I completed a PROJECT, and I’d rather rejoice in that for an evening than think critically. Don’t judge.

SO. We got new carpet in our living room a couple of years ago, and painted the walls and ceiling while we were at it. Most of the random display items that got boxed up in the process never made it back out; I was going to dust the near-the-ceiling shelf, I was going to paint the trim, I was going to do all the things, but life happened, and I didn’t. (Shocker.) At some point, however, my hubby brought into the living room a curio cabinet inherited from his parents. It’s been sitting there with DVDs on a couple of the shelves, a few display items on others, and several shelves unusable for lack of–shelf pins? Is that what they’re called? Anyway. Today I removed two of those–there were two types in there–and brought them with me to Lowe’s for comparison. (Lowe’s, by the way, is distinctly out of my comfort zone.) I was directed to the correct aisle and managed (after a good bit of reading drawer labels and staring and comparing) to commit to what seemed to be the closest to what I’d brought with me. (They were so lightweight that self-checkout kept insisting I wasn’t bagging them, and the helper person had to override the cranky machine.) After doing preschool pickup and feeding myself and my 5-year-old, I set to dusting and placing shelves, retrieving curios from the basement and dusting them (often with our electrical blower), and arranging them in such a way as to maximize every bit of space I could. I put off exercising until later than I prefer and my 13-year-old ended up making dinner, but I finished. (I even stowed the displaced DVDs in the bottom drawer, which had been empty. I asked my neighbor to jimmy the lock–I think the key may have fallen behind the bookcase–and then I propped the unlocked door strategically so that it wouldn’t fall open.) I now have a stocked curio cabinet and–wonder of wonders–a notable amount of empty space where the displaced curios had been. And nothing is sitting out looking for a new home, because I UTILIZED UNUSED SPACE BY PUTTING THINGS WHERE THEY BELONG. Revolutionary, right? It’s such a beautiful thing! If I knew how to post pictures on here, I would totally do it; it’s after 11, however, and since I still need to shave my legs, the time has come for us to part. (Points if you caught the subtle Anne of Green Gables reference.) May we all sleep the sleep of the tired!

I’ve had Jason Reynolds’ Ghost checked out forever. (Yeah, I know, how many books have I said that about?!) The reviews were fabulous, and his Newbery was impressive, and I’ve wanted to read it, you understand, but I’ve kept just not getting to it. I finally put the audio version on hold, however, and then it finally came in, and I FINALLY finished listening to it yesterday.

SO GOOD.

Seriously. I’m so glad I finally picked it! (It made for two books in a row that I gave 5 stars to, actually–it was a good week.) Castle (aka Ghost) as a narrator is fantastically funny and completely likable, and Reynolds manages to make him a sympathetic character through even his worst choices. In some ways, it’s a classic sports story–kid joins a team and it helps him with his demons–and yet it feels fresh and funny and fabulous. It’s also not just a “sports book,” which made me happy; it’s character driven and situation-focused (is that even a thing?) in a way you could apply to a wide range of activities.

Bottom line? I’m desperately hoping that my older girls are going to be interested enough to read it; if not, however, it’s likely to be a Christmas gift for my son in a few years. Read and enjoy!

It’s certainly no secret that I manage way more audio than print books these days; up until now, however, I’ve been holding out on Newberys, feeling like I should read them the ‘old fashioned way.’ A week or so ago, however, I faced the realization that I’m not going to get through them that way. I haven’t given up on my Newbery goal, but there are so many other books that I want to read–and so many other books that my KIDS want to read and I want to therefore familiarize myself with–that if I don’t utilize audio where I can, I’m never going to make it. This week, therefore, I listened to my first Newbery–William O. Steele’s The Perilous Road. It’s a Honor book from 1959, which is encouraging–it means that at least some of the older Honor books will be available in audio. (Medal books tend to stay fairly available, but the older Honor books are hit and miss. Of course, the really old ones are from the 20s and 30s, and I have my doubts about what I’ll find there…)

Anyway. The Perilous Road isn’t long, and there’s a decent chance that I would have gotten to it already if it weren’t about the Civil War. (Have I mentioned lately how much I DON’T enjoy reading about the Civil War? Because it’s pretty much my least favorite time period in American history.) It was available to borrow right away, however, and so I jumped right in–and I actually quite enjoyed it. I mean, yes, Chris witnesses a battle, and that’s awful in the way such things usually are, but third person–especially the third person style from the 1950s and 60s–gives you a bit more distance (more of a buffer, really) than first person, and I really liked how Steele showed Chris’s mental and emotional journey. We’re often very black and white in our thinking when we’re young, and Chris’s hatred for the ‘Yanks,’ his attempts to prove his southern loyalty, and his harsh introduction into greater emotional maturity and a more adult mentality all ring true. This is a story that makes you think, and I had more empathy for Chris than I expected to, being a Yankee myself. It’s also a story with lilting dialect and enough action to engage today’s readers, especially the boys. I’m pondering purchasing this one.

Guess what, folks–I actually managed to read one of this year’s Newberys already! Of course, it was a picture book…anyway. Kwame Alexander’s The Undefeated won multiple awards this year, some of them due to Kadir Nelson’s illustrations. After reading it, I found the illustrations impressively intentional AND accurate, which is all I can really say; I am not remotely qualified to judge art on solely artistic merits. (That would be my mother. And she does.) As for the text, it depends. As a “picture book for children”, I’m honestly not sure it works. The text is simple and sparse, and you have to read the fine print in the back to truly appreciate the illustrations–not a good combination for the probable audience. As a poem, however–which is what Alexander calls it in the afterward–it is poignant, it is aptly illustrated, and it is bold. I was impressed by it as poetry, even if its particular focus on black America made me feel vaguely as if it wasn’t meant for me. Which in turn made me wonder how men feel when they see books focusing on accomplishments by women, and yet I’m a big fan of those, because for so long women’s accomplishments were under-reported, under-credited, and underestimated. It’s never a bad thing when a book makes you think, right? Ultimately, however, and not at all surprisingly, my favorite part was the list of specifics and explanations in the back. (At the end of the day, while I respect poetry, I like it served with a healthy dose of historical background.) I worry that The Undefeated‘s format does it a disservice–my children rarely take the time to read the fine print at the end of picture books like I do–but I can also see why sprinkling that information throughout might weaken the overall effect. I think adults will be far more drawn to this than children; if my children’s reactions prove me wrong, though, I’ll be sure to let you know!

Oh, Kate DiCamillo.

The woman can write SO beautifully–and she can pull you far enough into a story that you want to finish it. But MAN, she gets weird! To be fair, I did expect Raymie Nightingale to be quirky; after all, the inside cover begins its synopsis by telling you that Raymie’s father has run away with a dental hygienist, and Raymie plans to learn how to twirl a baton, win the Little Miss Central Florida Tire competition, and get her picture in the paper, all so that he will see it and come home. (That says quirky to you, too, right?) What I didn’t expect, however–but probably should have, in a general sort of way–was the focus on Raymie’s soul and its ever-shifting size, the odd evolution of the pet situation, and the surprisingly satisfying ending after a very wandering sort of plot. For those familiar with DiCamillo’s work–apart from Because of Winn-Dixie, which was delightful and beautiful in a very not-weird sort of way–it should come as no surprise that I’m unable to give you much more than that. At the end of the day, though, Raymie and her friends are characters worth knowing, so what can I say? You might as well embrace the weird.