Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

My youngest and I finished reading Elana K. Arnold’s Harriet Tells the Truth together on Monday, and it was definitely my favorite book in the trilogy. Harriet has mostly kicked her lying habit, although she does learn a thing or two about personal vs. universal truths, and while she’s looking forward to Mabel Marble’s centennial birthday party, she’s also dreading it; it means her time on Marble Island is drawing to a close, and she likes living on Marble Island. Distractions come, however, in the form of a group of poets staying at the B&B (one of whom decides NOT to stay there after meeting the resident pets) and a possible poisoner on the island. Will everything come out all right?

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this one aloud; it’s always a good time when you’re laughing while you read! And while I’m sad that no more Harriet books are likely to be forthcoming, I couldn’t have asked for a more satisfying conclusion to Harriet’s story. Elementary schoolers should definitely give Harriet a try.

In the meantime, my son has a concert tonight and I’m taking my friend out to brunch, if she’s feeling up to it. My youngest survived Maturation yesterday, and my niece may or may not still be in labor. We’ll see how today goes!

Seriously, though. I smelled this Melt-in-Your-Mouth Crispy Pork Shoulder cooking for hours, and while it smelled quite tasty, it got strong enough that (it being a mild day) I cracked the window for a while. That level of olfactory stimulation is death when you’re pregnant, as a rule. Still, it made for quite a nice dinner–it did melt in your mouth, the outer skin was absolutely crispy, and the spice rub’s flavor was quite enjoyable. My one beef (so to speak) is that you didn’t get a ton of the flavor inside the roast; on the other hand, my youngest was thrilled at how tender it was. I have exciting plans for the leftovers, but in the meantime, the next time pork butt is on sale, you might consider giving this recipe a try.

In other news, my youngest daughter’s team won the 5th grade Battle of the Books competition today,(there was some seriously cool stuff in the prize bag), the maturation kits are ready to go for tomorrow, and my 11-year-old and I finished our latest together-read. Wahoo for a successful day!

The big plus? I got my stitches out last night! I don’t have to waterproof my hand in the shower anymore!

The minuses? In addition to quite a frustrating neighborhood situation last night, I got a frustrated email from one of my kiddos’ teachers today.

Let’s just dwell on the plus, shall we?

My carpal tunnel surgery went well and I’m definitely healing, but this is my first attempt to type much with my big fat bandage on, so we’ll see how it goes! I did want to review Tuck Everlasting: The Graphic Novel, however, and so I’m committed to trying my best.

K. Woodman-Maynard adapted Natalie Babbitt’s classic and illustrated the resulting graphic novel; she worked with Babbitt’s daughter in the process, and the result is a beautiful and faithful rendering of the story. I especially loved the chapter pages, as each has its own animal cavorting around the ‘Chapter (insert relevant number)’, and they’re fantastic. The rest of the art keeps away from a modern feel–wise, given the plot and theme–and uses its color palette to emphasize that. There are narrated bits in circular formation throughout, which help to keep the weightier theme far more intact than you’d expect in a graphic novel.

As for the story–like I said, it’s faithful to Babbitt’s original novel. I read that in 5th grade during a unit on death, and I distinctly recall having to write a paragraph on whether I’d rather live forever or die young afterwards. (I picked die young, so I definitely got Babbitt’s point.) The thing is, I didn’t actually love it. I didn’t hate it, you understand, but I didn’t love it, and I feel the same way as an adult. It’s an interesting theme, yes, but the Tucks’ eternal plight is more painful for me to think about now, and I have to remind myself that it’s more of a fable in order to stop picking at what would otherwise be plot holes. It makes for great discussion material, certainly, but that doesn’t automatically make it enjoyable. On the other hand, it’s still knocking around, so there’s that. You’ll just have to decide for yourself whether you’re interested in the graphic adaption.

There’s a winter storm warning for today, which is completely great, since we need the snow desperately. I’m also scheduled for my carpal tunnel surgery, however, AND we need milk, so I really ought to go to Costco beforehand. (It should be cold enough for milk to sit in the car, and it will undoubtedly be easier to lift it to and from the cart before my wrist gets cut into.) And honestly? I’m just so tired. I did not sleep well last night.

On the other hand, I finished Kate Beasley’s Lions & Liars at least a week ago, and I’m feeling relatively motivated to get it out of my ‘to be reviewed’ pile–especially since I’m passing it on to my littles. Now, about the actual review…

The simplest way to describe Lions & Liars is calling it a mashup of 2/3 Louis Sachar’s Holes and 1/3 Gordon Korman’s Ungifted, written (less humorously than usual) by Carl Hiaasen. Frederick Frederickson is already having a terrible week when he finds himself adrift on the Omigoshee River in a boat small enough to make alligators a concern. When he finally bumps ashore he finds himself at Camp Omigoshee–“where boys are ‘transformed'”–and jumps at the chance to reinvent himself. That isn’t as easy as it sounds, however, and he’s about to admit himself the same old Frederick Frederickson when a major hurricane comes along to provide some next-level growth opportunities.

In the interest of full disclosure, I didn’t think this had the same emotional impact as Holes. It’s entertaining and fast moving, however–just because it isn’t (quite) Hiaasen level funny doesn’t mean it isn’t funny–and I rather suspect it would have resonated more with me if I were a middle school aged boy. I’ll let you know what mine thinks (not to mention my elementary aged girl); in the meantime, wish me luck for the day!

As much as getting up for 9:00 church isn’t my favorite thing, I do rather enjoy the afternoons–there’s more time to nap, to play games, to plan out the week, and to read. Yesterday while the rest of the family was chilling, having screen time, or doing the Nex, I retreated into the quiet of my room and read all of James Burks’ Gabby & Gator while laying on my bed. If you’re not familiar with James Burks, he’s the author of the ‘Bird & Squirrel’ series, which multiple of my children enjoyed (as did I, honestly). Gabby & Gator is a different plot but just as entertaining; Gator is a former pet, cast off as little more than a baby, and Gabby is a vegetarian, recycling, tuba-playing outcast bullied or laughed at by the kids around her. When they team up it seems meant to be–except for Gator’s pesky eating problem…

Frankly, I got quite a kick out of this one. In fact, I’m kind of sad that my older kids will likely pass it by, although my youngest should thoroughly enjoy it. Both Gabby and Gator are well developed characters, and Burks’ art is completely fun. It’s lighter on text than many graphic novels, so it should be accessible to both reluctant and emerging readers, and yet there’s enough there to hold the attention of all kinds. Don’t miss this one. (And if you haven’t read ‘Bird & Squirrel’, don’t miss those, either!)

That’s what I finished listening to last night, folks–Renee Watson’s (imagine an accent on that middle ‘e’) All the Blues in the Sky. I imagine it’s been years since I read a medal winner within three weeks of its win! On the other hand, it’s a seriously short verse novel, so maybe that’s not too surprising.

I was still in the middle of it when our elementary school librarian finished it earlier in the week, and she felt like it was too sad/depressing; oddly enough, I’m not sure I agree. I mean, YES, it’s sad. Sage’s best friend died on her (Sage’s) 13th birthday, hit by a drunk driver, and Watson’s novel follows the first phase or two of Sage’s grief. Her after-school grief group gives us the chance to empathize with her, even while her frequent (mostly secret) dismissal of two of the group members’ experiences illustrates both the rawness of her grief and the limits of her own experience. If this had been a longer or traditional novel I think it would have felt too sad–there is only so much you can vicariously experience of that level of grief without overload–but between its length and its format, it worked for me. It’s certainly not going to be for everyone, or even necessarily for most kids, but everyone needs to feel seen and represented in what they read, and there are going to be some young readers who desperately need this book. As for me, I absolutely cried a bit, but I’m not sorry to have read it; it added a dimension to my emotional understanding.

In other news, SEPs meant there was no school today, and my kitchen and dining room are much the better for it. My bookends watched “The Empire Strikes Back” and “Return of the Jedi” together, and while there were a lot of un-ideal emotions going on over the course of the day, we got to see (and feed!) my oldest nephew tonight, which means we ended on a good note. Here’s hoping for a good long weekend!

Did I mention that pork butt/shoulder was on sale at Costco last week? Because it was, and so we used it in our chili for the ward party on Saturday. Of course, since we still have, say, 20 pounds of pork butt, I tried this Fall-Apart Tender Oven-Roasted Pulled Pork Shoulder recipe today, and I have to say, it was pretty good. I might change a couple of logistical things on my end, but we had it with baked potatoes (and green beans), and I’d say it’s worth making again. The flavor was good and the pan juices made it lovely, although draining a bit of the fat would not have been a terrible idea. I was in a hurry by then, however, and I feel like this level of home-cooked meal on an SEP night was a solid accomplishment.

As far as whose SEP? My youngest had hers at 8:20 this morning, after which she began her school day and I helped pack up the book fair, volunteered with Battle of the Books, and then helped pack up the book fair some more. By the time I got home I was already poopered, but there was dinner to start, exercising to be done, my youngest to retrieve from school, and more to dinner to work on before my son’s SEPs at 4. Now the dishwasher is running and–spoiler alert!–I’m not any less poopered. On the other hand, I feel like I ought to sleep well tonight…

…and between the Book Fair and the teachers’ dinner, I can’t really blame them. Unfortunately, I still need to shower, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go abuse them for a little bit longer. Have a good night all!

My youngest and I have joined my oldest in the ‘I read all 15 Battle of the Books Titles’ club! (Not that there’s an actual club, but still.) My middles both came within 2 or 3 their last year of elementary school–enough to compete on teams and do well–but my oldest read all of hers and was supposed to go on to District competition, thwarted only by poor scheduling on the school district’s part. (She had to choose between performing with Broadway Kids or competing, and she cried over that decision. I was SO upset on her behalf.) Tonight my youngest and I finished this year’s last title together, and so she gets her Book Fair gift certificate and I get–the glory. So to speak.

Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that I put the sci-fi title off until last; that’s not a genre I pick up on my own. Eventually, however, I realized I was too close to reading all 15 to give up within sight of the finish line, and so I started Lee Bacon’s The Last Human on audio. When I couldn’t concentrate on it in audio, however, I asked my youngest if we should read it together.* She was thrilled to acquiesce, and I knew her drive to get to 15 would keep me on target, and so–the rest is history. (As of tonight.)

Anyway. As much as I hope never to read another binary number aloud again (SO MANY CHAPTERS, ALL NUMBERED IN BINARY!!), the story definitely sucked me in. Thirty-ish years previously robots judged humanity–with its propensity for violence, greed, and excess–to be an imminent threat to Earth, and so robots eliminated that threat. Robotkind is thus living in harmony when XR_935 encounters a human girl hiding on the solar farm where he works. It is impossible, and yet there Emma is; she was born in a bunker and lived there with her parents until everyone in the bunker got sick. (Everyone else, that is.) Now she’s determined to reach a spot on a map her father gave her, and XR and his two robot teammates can either assume she (as a human) is a threat and eliminate her, or–help? What follows is a definitely original take on the dangerous journey/quest trope, with threats and a destination that prove to be surprisingly complicated/not complicated at the same time. Hardcore sci-fi fans are likely to find some plot holes, but Last Human is an interesting story engagingly told; I found I actually enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

In the meantime, this week I got my hair cut, went to the temple, took my son to the doctor and the orthodontist, and spent three of five weekday mornings at the school. I did survive our PTA meeting and book fair setup, but I have various children emotional over various things, tomorrow will be busy, and Monday and Tuesday will be even busier. Wish me luck!

*I’m fully aware that I used ‘however’ in two consecutive sentences, but it’s 9:38 and nothing else is coming to mind. My bad.