Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

We have a plethora of heart cookie cutters in this house, from more than one source, and so I told the kiddos we’d make cut-out Valentine’s Day cookies this weekend.  It was going to happen Friday–it really was–and then, you know, it didn’t, and so we did it today.  (Life with a 1-year-old.)  I asked the kiddos if they wanted regular sugar cookies or if they wanted to try a chocolate version, and my oldest (surprisingly) had the strongest opinion.  Apparently she doesn’t like regular sugar cookies, because they’re “too sugary.”  Nerds, you see, are fruity, and so they’re not.

She said this.  I swear.  I pointed out that sugar cookies are buttery, and she said they didn’t taste buttery to her.  Does this make me a failure as a mother?

Anyway.  I hopped onto Pinterest and settled on this Chocolate Sugar Cookie Recipe, and we now have two containers of cookies in my kitchen.  The pristine ones will likely be iced tomorrow; the broken ones, well, you know.  (What happens to broken cut-out cookies in your house?)

Interestingly enough, I’m looking forward to the icing.  I’m usually not that into icing cookies, but these are rather on the dark-chocolate-y tasting side, and I think icing will complement them nicely.  Without it, they’re good, but not necessarily make-again good.  (And by the way, they break easily enough that the icing had better make a NOTICEABLE difference in taste, because I think the application thereof is going to be slightly frustrating.)

Anyway.  I will report on the finished product next time, I promise; for now, I’m on the fence about this one.

No, never fear, I am not moving.  (If I were moving, I’d have to do something about the 193 library books that are currently residing in my house.)  My friend Britt, however, is, so I hung out and packed a bit and cleaned with her last night, coming home smelling not-so-faintly of Pine-sol.  (Item:  Can one smell faintly of Pine-Sol?  I’m not sure Pine-sol does “faint.”)

(By the way, in case you’re wondering, I probably still owe her a few more favors, but we stopped counting years ago.  She’s that kind of friend.)

Anyway, by the time I got home last night, and caught up on Facebook, and showered, well–it was late, and I really needed to go to bed.  (In case you’re wondering, it’s an italicized and parenthetical kind of day.  I’m okay with this, partly because italicized and parenthetical are good words that feel underused to me.  In fact, I changed the structure of this aside because I wanted to use parenthetical instead of parentheses.) Hence, my postlessness last night.  I’m sure my legions of adoring fans were inconsolable.

Today, then, I bring to you the review intended for last night, which is of Emma Lesko’s Super Lexi.  I’m pretty sure the book came on my radar because Britt marked it as to-read; it sat on my shelf for months before I finally took it down to the treadmill to read it and decide if my kids would be interested.  I would have picked it up months ago, however, if I’d known I’d enjoy it so much.

Super Lexi is told from Lexi’s point of view, and Lexi is clearly–different.  How different?  Hmmm. Possibly OCD-ish, possibly on the autism spectrum, possibly, well, I’m not sure.  And it doesn’t matter, anyway.  What matters is that Lexi’s differences make music class torture for her on a good day; they make the thought of the Parents’ Day performance coming up unbearable.  Her efforts to avoid it, and the outcome, give the book direction, but the best part of the story is getting to see life through Lexi’s eyes.  Her meticulously accurate responses to questions (“I heard your voice, not words”), her reactions to requests for eye contact (“I needed my eyes to look for cereal in the cupboard”), and her phobias (yogurt, the cafeteria trash compacter, and eyeballs staring at her, to name a few) give you such a clear view into her personality that it’s sometimes hard to understand why the adults in her life act the way they do.  (If only we could all see into our children’s heads, right?)  Ultimately, I found it amazing that a 93 page book (with a large font!) could tell its story with such depth.  Don’t miss this one, folks.  It’s a perfect glimpse into a world that’s different from our own–although not, necessarily, in the ways that truly matter.

I’m kind of bitter that our library system doesn’t have the sequel.

In this review it is, anyway, because telling you too much about Rowboat Watkins’ Rude Cakes would ruin the effect.  Suffice it to say that rude cakes–who don’t listen, don’t take turns, and don’t speak nicely to others–learn that it’s better to be polite after all.  That being said, trust me when I tell you that you are unlikely to accurately predict where the story goes; it may be a book that champions good manners, but it’s also a hilarious book with amusing illustrations.

You MUST read it.

You should probably buy it.

Just sayin’.

Hooray for having read one of this year’s Newberys!  Yeah, okay, it was the graphic novel, and those go rather quickly, but still.  Still!  And I ended up REALLY liking Roller Girl.  I know, I know, graphic novels aren’t my thing, but Victoria Jamieson does an amazing job of conveying complex emotions through facial expressions, and she paints a beautifully accurate picture of how friendship dynamics change as we grow up.  I also learned quite a bit about roller derby, and while Astrid’s drawn-out lying to her mom bothered the parent in me, I felt like the issue was ultimately resolved in a satisfying way.

A couple of Sundays ago I had to come up with a meal plan kind of late in the day; I was looking through muffins recipes to make breakfast for dinner and I found these Good Morning Muffins right before my hubby offered to make biscuits.  (In case you’re wondering, his mother made good biscuits when he was growing up, and he learned how to make them.  My father made biscuits that he enjoyed more than anyone else, and I never felt the urge to learn how.  Therefore, my hubby makes all the biscuits in our marriage, because his are awesome.)  I was all about him making biscuits with our particularly grouchy son, so I tabled this recipe until the next Sunday, when we fed my nephew and I needed a bread to go with soup.

Interestingly enough, my pickier second girlie was a big fan, although it probably helped that she didn’t much care for the soup.  (Potatoes.  Seriously.  What is so objectionable about potatoes?)  None of the other kids seemed passionate about them; my oldest thought they were too orange-y.  My hubby was fine with them and my nephew said they were good (not that a 20-year-old college student is difficult to please), while I adored the streusel (bless the woman for using equal amounts of cinnamon and nutmeg) and wished the muffins themselves tasted more like my mother’s orange rolls (OH, those orange rolls!) and less like orange marmalade.  (Yes, they have a bunch of marmalade in them.  I just don’t love the stuff.  My father does, but then, he also loves mincemeat pie.)  I was hoping the orange juice would lessen the marmalade punch, but it mostly turned the muffins rather a lovely color.  Oh, and the streusel was a very dry streusel.  It didn’t make a difference to the actual eating of it, but it meant that you lost more while eating it.  Which was sad.

Honestly, I’m sort of tempted to try them again with peach jam, and perhaps peach nectar if I can find it; the streusel would work quite nicely with peach, and I think my oldest and I would be bigger fans. (Sadly, the boys in our family don’t care for peaches, which baffles me.)  As it is, if you’re a big fan of orange marmalade, you really ought to give this recipe a try; if not, approach with caution.

Okay, maybe not really.  It would be more accurate to say that it’s the last Natalie Kinsey-Warnock book in the system that’s not a picture book; it’s also the longest I’ve read by her, and the least setting-driven. Which is not to say that True Colors wasn’t quite enjoyable, you understand.  It’s just that in her other books (at least the ones I’ve read!), the setting drives the plot in a lot of ways, while True Colors feels like it could have taken place in any rural community (okay, any rural community that also has touristy summer visitors).  The emphasis here is on identity and relationships.

Blue was a 2-day-old baby when Hannah Spooner found her in her yard; the two have been together ever since.  This summer, however, things feel different.  Blue wants desperately to know who her real mother is, and her quest for information involves her in her community in a new way, while her best friend, one of the summer people, is acting like a completely different person this year.

Blah, blah, blah.  I am struggling to write a summary of this book that pleases me, so here it is in a nutshell:  I liked it.  I liked Blue, I liked Hannah, I liked the people in their community, and I liked the family story that turns out to be Blue’s.  Nadine, the summer friend, made me cringe, but I have to admit that I can see how her life situation is affecting her behavior.  (I would not have been at all understanding if I’d read this in elementary or junior high, mind you.  I just would have hated her.) Bottom line? True Colors is engaging, it moves along, and it’s got depth–or in other words, it’s worth the read.

Remember Babymouse?  As in, Babymouse:  Queen of the World?  My oldest read it in her quest for a report-worthy graphic novel, and while she wasn’t terribly interested, my second wanted to read another one–which is how we ended up with Babymouse:  Our Hero checked out of the library.  I decided to read it before I passed it on, in case she got confused about the plot like she did with the first one; what surprised me was just how much I actually liked this one.

I knew half of my problem with the first book was my inability to relate to the plot, mind you.  The second one, however, reminded me lot of a tween girl episode of “Scrubs.”  Babymouse keeps slipping suddenly into random daydreams inspired by the everyday sorts of things that happen to her, and those daydreams infuse ordinary events with humor.  Missing the bus, having to play dodgeball in gym class, and fighting with your locker are easy situations to relate to; Babymouse makes them easier to laugh about.  (And the final confrontation, by the way, is very satisfying.)

Bottom line?  Again, it’s a graphic novel, so it’s not so much my thing.  On the other hand, if it IS your thing, it looks like the series might be worth sticking with after all.

Okay, I feel a little guilty for reviewing a book I only skimmed through, but honestly?  It’s too funny to miss!  I picked up Attack of the Fluffy Bunnies because we have LOVED Andrea Beaty’s picture books (at least the ones we’ve read–we’re still working on them!); I figured my 9-year-old would get a kick out of it, but I’d go ahead and give it a quick read-through before I gave it to her.  It might be fun, right?

OH.  MY.  GOSH.

Twins Kevin and Joules are thrilled to be at summer camp while their parents defend their title at an International Spamathon.  When their counselors are hypnotized by Fierce, Large, Ugly, and Ferocious Furballs from another planet, however, it’s up to them to save the world from total domination.

I ask you.  Do I really need to add anything to that?  I feel compelled, however, to point out that Beaty’s tone is deliciously entertaining.  Even if this doesn’t sound like your thing–it’s not really mine–it’s totally worth it.  I promise.

(By the way, there’s a sequel called Fluffy Bunnies 2:  The Schnoz of Doom.  It’s a little ridiculous how much I’m looking forward to it.)

I’m not much for New Year’s resolutions, but I am trying to beat back the snacking monster that a couple of (brief) vacations (not to mention the holidays) have unleashed.  I am therefore looking to make meals I particularly enjoy (instead of, say, snacks or treats I particularly enjoy); this is why I am so belatedly delighted with the lemons my friend found for me at an insanely good price.  One of the things I make with lemons–when I make the time to do the chopping–is Mel’s White Bean and Tuna Salad, which has one of my very favorite flavor profiles AND just happens to be healthy!

The best part is, tuna doesn’t have to be your thing.  I eat it, but I don’t necessarily love it.  What I do love, however, is the combination of lemon zest, fresh lemon juice, and parsley (as well as green onion, to add to the flavor party).  I’ll eat pretty much ANYTHING with that flavor profile; the best part is, the beans and tuna are all lean protein (and fiber, for the beans), and so it’s light and fresh and filling and delightful.

I have made a couple of changes, mind you.  Raw onions are not so much my thing, so I use green onions rather than red to make the onion flavor considerably more mild.  Lemon, on the other hand, really IS my thing, so I use two lemons instead of one.  (It’s really hard to make anything that I would consider too lemony.)  And finally, I prefer to use small white beans rather than Great Northern, although Great Northern are fine.  Mel talks about scooping the salad with crackers, as well as a variety of other ways to eat it; me, I just dig in with a spoon.  Either way, it’s delicious, and I love it, and it fills me with joy to know that it’s sitting in my fridge right now!

Reading Little White Duck:  A Childhood in China was an interesting experience; I’ve never before seen Chairman Mao portrayed so positively.  The funny thing is that it’s not at all a political book, but rather a series of vignettes about the author’s, well, childhood in China.  Her parents, however, were both born into poor families, and they benefited from Mao’s policies.  (She does quite a good job at portraying that without taking a political stand, actually.)  If I were teaching, I would have my students read this and Red Scarf Girl:  A Memoir of the Cultural Revolution together; the possibilities for a compare/contrast essay are endless.  (Red Scarf Girl is incredibly compelling, and its naive narrator is perfect for its subject matter.) But I digress.

Little White Duck is another of the graphic novels I picked up for my oldest, and we both enjoyed it.  It’s around a hundred pages and gives you a nice glimpse into a completely different life and culture while still being accessible to grade schoolers.  Bottom line?  Totally worth your time, even if the graphic novel format is still not my first choice.  (If you’re wondering why I linked to Red Scarf Girl instead, it’s because that format really IS my first choice, but I promise–it’s completely a personal preference.)