Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Having thoroughly enjoyed quite a few of Jamie Sumner’s books already, I was quite looking forward to Glory Be; I wasn’t disappointed, but it was a bit grittier than I’d expected, although not shockingly so. As Glory wanders New Orleans in search of her lost dog, she’s holding a harsher truth and looking for answers in rougher places than any of us would choose for a child. We live in an imperfect world, however, and we often can’t shield our children from the harsher truths; conversely, answers can sometimes be found even in rough places.*

The revelation of Glory’s harshest truth and its resultant effect on her family, however, is at least balanced by the resolution of the foremost conflict in the story. And Glory has people in her corner, which always matters (even when some of those people are, well, atypical). I’ll be rather interested to see how my animal lover feels about this one. (By the way, if you’re wondering why this review isn’t more detailed, Glory Be is a less-than-200-page illustrated verse novel. A more detailed review would seriously compromise the reading experience.)

On the home front, I’ve got a hot date this morning with the oven and the dishes–I’m making treats to bring to my hubby’s work’s Halloween potluck, and while they’re in the oven I will absolutely be wrestling the kitchen into some level of submission. My son is still coughing consistently, my senior is going to be at school for 14 hours today, and my missionary is picking my youngest up from school to join me at the work potluck. I hope you’re all enjoying whatever Halloween festivities you’ve got going on today!

*Which isn’t to say that my parental soul wasn’t screaming inside at some of Glory’s wanderings.

As in, I have yet to find the perfect graphic novel gift idea for Christmas. I did finish Dare You to Dance yesterday, though, and it’s highly probable my girls will enjoy it more than I did. Not that I didn’t enjoy it, really–it held my interest all the way through–but I was solidly a band kid. My girls, on the other hand, have all danced, and while they haven’t done traditional ballet, they know many of the positions; they’ll relate to the topic far better than I did. My real complaint is that Dare You to Dance feels more like a plot than a story, if that makes sense. Girls from all over are attending a summer ballet workshop in NYC, and the main character takes a while to figure out what relationships she’s forming with whom. The girl Gracie chooses to create a rivalry with isn’t exactly cooperating, but she has prestigious (and somewhat mysterious) ballet connections; as for the rest of her class, Gracie isn’t sure (for a while, at least) whom to trust–and not to trust. I just never forgot that it was a plot I was following; I couldn’t manage to get lost in the story. On the other hand, dancers may love a graphic novel about classical ballet, right? I suppose you’ll have to decide about this one yourselves.

In other news, my son went back to school today, but his cough still sounds terrible; my senior is trudging through incredibly long days with her required musical rehearsals; my youngest seemed less anxious this morning, which is fantastic; and my oldest is back at the Hope Clinic, which is one of her most tiring service sites. We are, it appears, edging back in the general direction of normalcy.

I’m sure y’all noticed that I did NOT post on Friday as planned. I had two sick/anxious/sad kids home from school, though, and the day got away from me. Here I am now, however, so let’s do a recap…

I don’t believe I mentioned that my son’s first regular (as in, not jazz) band concert was the 12th, but it was a lot of fun. Fall break started on Thursday the 15th, and in the afternoon the girls and I headed up to Idaho, dropping my son off at his cousin’s house on the way. His dad picked him up there on Friday, they went to the BYU/Notre Dame game on Saturday, and drove up together on Sunday afternoon.

The girls and I, of course, got to Idaho on Thursday evening, and we spent our time with family. We did what we could to help my mom, we spent time with the great-littles (nieces and nephews) and their parents as they flowed into town, we ate salmon, we watched the game (it may have taken a few years off of our lives), and we zoomed our own sacrament meeting for a missionary homecoming before attending my mother’s with all the great-littles’ families.

Monday, of course, was the funeral. It filled my heart to see all of the cousins who drove from Utah and Washington–our family felt so loved. I gave the life sketch at the funeral with just a few thoughts, but my siblings and oldest nephew spoke, as well as a family friend from RI, and listening to their talks was incredibly healing. It gave me back my dad, shifting the real person to the forefront of my memory and moving the shell he’d become before he died to the back. We set up a memory table at the church with all kinds of things from his life, and we visited with family and friends all through the luncheon afterwards. After a few hours of chill time back at my mom’s we had dinner at my brother’s house, and the next day (Tuesday) we all trickled back to our homes.

A neighborhood friend brought us dinner Tuesday night–so kind, as no one ever wants to cook after driving for hours–and we triaged the unpacking, etc., before getting off to bed. My youngest was so anxious/sad/still getting over her cold the next morning, though, that while she went off to the bus stop, she came back home before the bus came. I had her go to the last few periods of the day–it was the first day of her new elective, and I was afraid that missing the first day would make going back eventually considerably harder–but she missed the next two days with an iffy tummy; her brother missed them as well, except that he caught her cold (or one from someone else at the funeral) and so was simply home sick. (He’s still home today, actually. Because apparently a return to normalcy is not in my immediate future.) On Saturday we buried my dad–I spoke again, as did my sister, and my brother dedicated the grave. I’m grateful for divine help as I spoke, too, because I spent the night before with my 17-year-old instead of writing anything down. (First at her dance performance, then talking to her about her boy issues. It’s been a rough weekend for her.) I did a lot of thinking, though, and I definitely felt blessed. My mother wasn’t feeling well and was unable to attend, but she made it to the luncheon that her siblings so thoughtfully provided. Once again, it touched our hearts to see family and friends and feel their love and support.

Yesterday was my youngest daughter’s very last Primary program–Primary being our church’s children’s organization–because she’s turning 12 next year and so graduating to the youth organization. It was lovely to watch her, and afterwards we took the day to decompress and relax (I dozed off more than once). Which brings us to today…only I still have a child home sick plus a missionary home because her sites are closed, so I suppose this is all I’ve got the concentration for. Signing off!

I tried to call and pay the dentist’s bill over the phone and realized, as it rang, that the office is closed on Thursdays; I called to excuse my sick son from school and no one answered, necessitating a message (I’m always leery of just leaving a message there). I did throw away an expired Sam’s Club coupon book, but now I’m back to reviewing.

I realized recently that I needed to swap out some of my graphic novels waiting to be previewed with others that are stronger candidates for possible Christmas/birthday gifts; unfortunately, in a spectacularly terrible example of timing, I chose Meredith McClaren’s Crumble as the first of those to read. Emily, her mom, and her aunt Gina share a family bakery where they sell desserts with emotions baked in. Emily’s mom travels a good bit, lecturing about the process, but aunt Gina is always there to be with Emily and run the bakery–until she dies in a car accident. Baking bad feelings into anything is against the rules, but baking has always made Emily happy before. Surely it’ll help with this?

Spoiler alert (except not really, because it’s right there on the back of the book): it doesn’t. In fact, it makes things worse in the long run. How is she going to fix things now?

Reading about dealing with a death in the family was really not the way to go this month, but that’s hardly the author’s fault. It does frustrate me as a parent to read about parents who are so wrapped up in their own feelings that their kids are drifting; Emily’s mom is facing significant financial worries as well as grief, however, and so it isn’t fair to judge. They do ultimately figure things out, and that’s the most important thing, right?

On to more cleanup now…

Here’s the deal, folks. I have sick/grieving kids home from school today and one of them is napping in the living room, which eliminates that room as an area to work on (as well as the kitchen, since most kitchen jobs are noisy). My morning project, therefore, is to start working through the backlog of papers and books at my computer that are waiting to be dealt with, and if I’m going to do that, I’ve got to review a couple of the books there so that they can leave the area. I’m planning on talking about the funeral and fall break during tomorrow’s regular post, because that matters more in the long run; today, however, is about immediate cleanup, and so you have this review. (Also at least one other, I hope. We’ll see.)

Elana K. Arnold’s Bat and the Case of the Yips is the 5th book in her Bat series, and it begins with an interesting development–Bat’s dad wants him to try baseball so badly that he tells Bat that if he does, he can start bringing Thor with him on every-other-weekends. Bat wants that enough to agree, and so he joins the team his dad is coaching. He soon hatches a plan, however, to start playing so badly that the team won’t want him, but his dad will still be bound to his end of the bargain. This goes…about as well as you’d expect. Not only is Bat miserable at the lying-without-words, but his friend Israel is obviously upset by his behavior. Bat learns some valuable lessons as the situation gets sorted out; what’s more, his dad has been learning some things about himself as well. This makes for a satisfying ending.

My one real complaint about the book is the same complaint I had about the last one; I want the adults in Bat’s life to try a bit more to explain the feelings of other people to him. I recognize that explaining feelings to a boy on the spectrum can be complicated, yes, but if it wouldn’t work, I want Arnold to spend a bit more time showing that to me. Too many of those adults seem to stop just short of a full explanation that draws parallels between Bat’s feelings and those of the others in his life, sighing and giving up instead. If those explanations are going to fail, well–I want to SEE them fail. Overall, however, Case of the Yips is a nice addition to the series.

Initially I was going to be firmer and say that Shakti falls into my “this is a bad title but titles are hard” category, but the more I think about it, the less sure of myself I am. So I’m simply going to say that I have doubts about Shakti being the best possible title for this graphic novel, but (again) titles are hard, and I have no idea what I’d pick instead.

I picked up the book last night because I showered early and figured I’d read in bed so I could also go to bed early, only then I got far enough in that stopping seemed like a waste of time. And so I finished it last night, and instead of going to bed early, well–I was on time, at least, and that’s something, right? Shakti is the story of a girl whose family moves to Amherst, Massachusetts (shoutout to Emily Dickinson!), and finds a trio of witches at the middle school. They have all of the teachers under their spell, but Shakti makes friends with the kids bullied by the witches, especially Xi. When the two of them discover the bullies/witches in the woods and realize what they’re up to, Shakti appeals to one of her mothers, a witch herself, to help. Powerful forces can be difficult to control, however, and when Shakti sets more in motion than she intends to, the stakes are suddenly much higher.

I have mixed feelings about this one. I absolutely love what Shakti has to do to fix things at the end–any book that teaches compassion and empathy as essential to conflict resolution deserves to be read–but I was hoping for a bit more resolution with the witches/bullies. Witchcraft is generally not my thing, but I did enjoy the cultural background of their beliefs, and while I didn’t mind the final conflict being over with quickly, well–it was over awfully quickly. Bottom line? This wasn’t necessarily my thing, but it was worthwhile nonetheless.

In other news, my dad’s funeral is Monday–that still feels surreal to say–and the obituary is written. My feelings are still complicated, because in many ways my dad has been gone for a while now, and yet the fact that he died feels at once both the same and radically different. I am touched–moved–humbled by the outpouring of love from extended family and friends.

This is uncharted territory.

Here’s what’s going on, folks–my father’s condition worsened considerably last week and over the weekend, and he passed away this morning. That’s why I missed Friday’s post; it’s also why my posting for the next week and a half is going to be spotty at best, nonexistent at worst. Don’t give up on me long term, okay?

I’d like to write a post about my dad, but it’s not in me right now. I suppose that’s going to have to wait.

I have an intermediate nonfiction title I’ve been waiting to review for at least a week and a half, folks. The problem is that the subject matter is heavier, meaning the review will take more concentration, and I just wasn’t feeling that today. And so, in a spectacularly ‘whatever, it’s not like I don’t know I’m a little odd’ sort of move, I finished up the short graphic novel that I started last night so that I can review that instead. I’m guess I’m feeling a special kind of lazy.

Anyway. Brittany Long Olsen’s The Happy Shop popped up on my radar because of another book by the same author, only for a surpassingly ‘too stupid to share’ reason, I ended up reading this one first. (Last night and today, in fact, as previously mentioned.) I was hoping it might be a contender for one of my youngest daughter’s Christmas graphic novels, but at 140 pages, it’s a bit too short for how quickly she goes through them. She’ll still enjoy reading the library copy, however, and if you’ve got a slower reader who’s drawn to stories about feelings, this one’s an especially good option.

Happy Shop centers around Darcy, whose mom has just moved the two of them to a new country for her dream job. Missing her friends and struggling to understand the accents of those around her, Darcy holes up in her room until her mom sends her out for some grocery shopping. It’s then that she discovers ‘The Happy Shop’, a store that sells happy feelings collected in jars by one of the owners. After accidentally breaking a few of the jars, she ends up working at the shop after school to pay off her debt; it’s then she discovers that the business is struggling. Is there a way for the shop to become successful again–and can Darcy help make it happen?

This really is a lovely little story about feelings and adjusting to change; the art matches the feel quite nicely. Its length does make for less character development than an older reader might wish, but the target audience shouldn’t mind. My one real complaint is that I prefer more concrete resolution from an ending than we’re given. This may well be an intentional, stylistic choice, but I’m afraid I’m too OCD to fully enjoy an implied happy ending–what my daughter(s) will think remains to be seen! In the meantime, it’s a short, cozy graphic novel, something like a mug of flavored hot chocolate on a chilly day. I’m looking forward to the author’s other book(s)!

That’s what my hubby and I have been doing in the last 14 hours, folks. Last night when we came home from Sunday dinner in Clearfield, my phone screen got a crack in exactly the wrong place in it; my best guess is that my keychain swung into it on my way into the house, but I heard nothing and noticed nothing until my phone reset and then wouldn’t let me use touch ID. While my hubby was researching new phones for me–because yes, no phone is a first world problem, but getting texts from my children, among other things, is kind of important–my mother-in-law called the home phone to say that my hubby’s work backpack had been left up there. Unfortunately, his work laptop was in it. So I drove back up and back (luckily my hubs managed to bring up Spotify, so I had music) last night to get his backpack, and he’s leaving work for a while today to meet me at the store and get a new phone set up for me. Because life happens.

In the meantime, I’m pulling Tall Water out of my stash of completed books waiting to be reviewed, because I need to not let myself get any further behind in that department. A graphic novel by SJ Sindu and Dion MBD, Tall Water has been on my radar since it was named an Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature Honor book in January; I ended up picking it up to read in September, and since (being YA) it’s a little old for my 11-year-old and unlikely (for different reasons) to appeal to my older girls, it can now head back to the library. (Have I mentioned before that my son does NOT prefer graphic novels?) It was, however, quite an interesting read.

Nimmi, although of mixed heritage, has grown up in America with her father, with only letters to and from and a few phone calls with her mother in Sri Lanka. When his career (he’s a journalist) sends him back there, however, she’s driven to go, too, despite his adamant refusal for safety reasons. She books her own ticket and surprises him at the Sri Lankan airport; presented with a fait accompli, he takes her to meet her mother. Unsurprisingly, she’s unprepared for the reality of a country at war (parent perspective–maybe her dad’s reasons for refusing were actually legit?), and that’s before the tsunami hits.

Tall Water is a fascinating look at a conflict too few people are aware of; it’s based on some of Sindu and her family’s actual experiences and is a passionate cry for relief for those who are suffering. The LGBTQ+ element is subtle and takes a (far) back seat to Sri Lanka itself, which is the true focus of the story. I did, unfortunately, find it somewhat difficult to follow what happened during the tsunami itself, and while that may have been intentional as a representation of the chaos and confusion of the actual experience, more clarity for the reader would have been preferable. Nimmi’s American boyfriend is also effectually dropped from the plot once she leaves for Sri Lanka, which is problematic as he’s left taking care of her cat. Overall, the picture Sindu paints is worth seeing, but the mechanics of its story are sometimes uneven.

Bottom line? Worth reading, but not what I would necessarily call essential. You’ll have to decide for yourself on this one!

Today was the sort of day that starts out slowly but gets busier as it goes on; I napped and puttered around doing household tasks this morning, but my son had a doctor’s appointment at 3:15 and then my senior danced at the homecoming game tonight. I was exceptionally pleased, then, that this Cool Beans Salad, which I totally made in stages, was as good as it was. I replaced the bell pepper with tomato because I don’t care for bell peppers, but the only other change I made was to replace half the chili powder with smoked paprika.* (Because we like smokiness but we’re generally too wussy for chipotle chili powder.) I mixed the dressing and added the beans earlier in the day and I think it upped the flavor; both my middles gave it a thumbs middle to up, and I’m eating more at 11 pm because it’s good. (Although digestively speaking a definitely questionable choice.) Y’all should definitely give it a try!

*Oh, and I substituted red beans for the kidney beans, because I prefer them.