Living Full on Life

Beverly Cleary

by Leave a Comment

Yesterday Beverly Cleary died at the age of 104. Her books were beloved to me as a child! I remember my first grade teacher letting me read out loud to my little reading group. I was reading out of the book, “Ramona and Her Mother”. Although it was a little challenging for me at that age and reading level, I wanted so much to get to know the characters and the plot that I struggled though it! I read a similar sentiment in her obituary on NPR when she said, “I think children want to read about normal, everyday kids. That’s what I wanted to read about when I was growing up. I wanted to read about the sort of boys and girls that I knew in my neighborhood and in my school. And in my childhood, many years ago, children’s books seemed to be about English children, or pioneer children. And that wasn’t what I wanted to read. And I think children like to find themselves in books.”

And then this other quote from the same article, “Decades after they were written, Cleary’s books still ring true for children. “I think deep down inside children are all the same,” she said. “They want two loving parents and they would prefer a house with a neighborhood they can play in. They want teachers that they can like. I don’t think children have changed that much. It’s the world that has changed.”

The world is a better place because of writers like Beverly Cleary. My daughter, Anna (11) just walked in and in after I told her that the author of the Ramona books just passed away she exclaimed how amazing she was and that she has read all of her books, “Like five times”. Enough said.

The Journey

by Leave a Comment

We just got back from a trip to Arizona for Thanksgiving to spend time with family for the holiday. This week I have been reading a book called, “Don’t Make Me Pull Over! An Informal History of the Family Road Trip.” by Richard Ratay. The book chronicles the events of how family road trips came into being and what happened to them. It discusses the inventions useful for road trips like that of the car, seat belts, entertainment consoles in cars, handheld gaming devices etc, as well as the history behind roads, highways, fast food restaurants, and motels. The author fondly remembers his trips in the family station wagon in the seventies and eighties and in the final chapters he writes about the first time his family flew on a plane to their destination instead of drove. I love what he wrote because I feel the same way about driving places. This is what he wrote:
“The plain fact was that other than purchasing our plane tickets, we’d made no real effort to reach our objective, as those men had – or even we’d always had in the past. There’d been no hardships, no squabbles, no hours of tedium, not even a worry that we’d missed a turn…Our flight had allowed us to soar over all the things that once made a family vacation…a family vacation. We’d taken a trip but we’d made no journey. And somehow it felt as though we hadn’t earned the right to enjoy our final destination.”

Another quote:
“More than anything else what made the family road trip so special was the feeling of being inextricably bound together in a great adventure. An adventure based less on where we were headed, and more in the moments we shared along the way.”

I love the joy of the journey. That is why we drive places. That is why we drove 8,500 miles this summer to Alaska and back or toured the southeast last summer. My kids are champion road warriors who barely blink at a trip of a mere 10 hours like we took yesterday. We love what we see on the journey. Truthfully though, if  you gave me a plane ticket anywhere I wouldn’t complain! I love to fly too. I guess the heart of it all is that I simply love going places.

The Book That Ruined My Life

by Leave a Comment

DO NOT! I repeat, DO NOT read the book, “The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up”, by Marie Kondo. It is life changing, but not in a good way. The book was inspiring and had so many great points and tips in it (along with a few weird things), that I decided to dive right in and de-clutter. Yes, I have gotten rid of car load after car load of junk. Yes, I feel so good when I look at the uncluttered spaces in my house. But NO, I do not like that I am still in a state of upset as I move from one project to another. For example, in the process of going through the kids toys and clothes we decided to move rooms. We put William and Anna in the same room (since neither of them like to sleep alone) with just their books and clothes in there (thanks Whitney for that tip) and then made one of the bedrooms their play room. In the new play room there is a huge closet that I thought would make a perfect room for all of Anna’s princess and girl stuff. However the closet/room had some drywall work to do and so I have been mudding and taping and sanding, and now I have to prime and paint. What was supposed to be a smallish job turned into a huge one! And all the things that go in that closet/room are still sitting out in the toy room. Furthermore, it is the time of year when I update our food storage and put our emergency preparedness in order since there are great sales right now (camping and food storage items) so I have project upon project piling up to suffocate me! All of our food stores that were once in our garage are now being moved into the vacated storage room that used to house all of the kids little used toys.  Saddest of all, I was excited for the long winter months that I could use to populate my recipe index on my blog like I did last year. Instead I have been slaving away, tidying my house. I long for days when I don’t have big, huge projects hanging over my head! So for now I say, I wish I had never read the darn book.  Evidently, I’m not alone. A friend of mine in my book club sent me this review she read about the book:

I know this book is quickly making waves among most literary groups, or anyone who owns more than one possession, which is the majority of North America. So I thought this group would appreciate this comprehensive review on Goodreads of the book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying up. I have this book on my to-read list for January, but she has made me rethink my plans. I now need to meet this woman, I think we were meant to be good friends, even if I do find joy in a good vegetable peeler.

“There is no rating low enough to compensate for the way this book has ruined my life. Whatever you do, don’t read it as it will haunt you. This is a long review but it behooves you to stick with it.
To begin, you have to touch each and every possession and ask yourself if it brings you joy. If it doesn’t, it needs to be discarded. Do you know how hard it is to summon joy for beige underwear or Neosporin? Yet summon you must. I like my carrot peeler but is joy too strong a word?
It gets tougher. Not only must you “apply hands” to every piece of clothing while checking for your joy response, you must fold your clothes in very specific ways in order to find each piece’s “sweet spot”. I never knew that “Every piece of clothing has it’s own ‘sweet spot’ where it feels just right”. This will lead to an historical moment when “your mind and the piece of clothing connect.” Don’t forget to thank your clothes for protecting your body. Thank your accessories for making you beautiful. “Express your appreciation to every item that supported you during the day.”
Never, never “ball up your socks” as they can’t get their much deserved rest that way. They need to breathe a sigh of relief. You must visit your off season clothes to “let them know you care and look forward to wearing them when they’re next in season. This kind of communication helps your clothes stay vibrant and keeps your relationship with them alive longer.”
Everything must be stored standing up rather than laid flat. “Stacking weakens and exhausts the things that bear the weight of the pile. Just imagine how you would feel if you were forced to carry a heavy load for hours?”
You must empty your hand bag every day.”Being packed all the time, even when not in use, must feel something like going to bed with a full stomach.” When you get a new phone, it is kind to text your old one with a message of thanks for its service.
Every single thing must be in its assigned place before you go to bed.” Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have no fixed address?” It is equally important for our possessions to have “that assurance that there is a place for them to return to.”
If we greet our house properly it will ” be happy to tell me what the family no longer needs and where to put the things remaining so that the family can be comfortable and happy in this space.” Not sure if you do this before or after applying hands and checking your joy response. It did come near the end of the book, if that helps.
So what do the things that get discarded for not sparking joy feel? “I think they simply want to leave. Lying forgotten in the closet, they know better than anyone else that they are not bringing you joy.”
The people who tidy as this book recommend experience a change in their appearance. “Their figures are more streamlined, their skin is more radiant, and their eyes shine brighter.”
Unfortunately, my eyes are crossed, I’ve gained 10 pounds, and I feel hives ready to pop. I had no idea when I picked up this pretty little book that it was going to necessitate my search for a live-in psychiatrist. I had NO freaking idea that I was squashing the self-esteem of my possessions. I can NOT find those folding sweet spots and everything in my drawers is in a mosh pit. My hand bag looks sad every time I walk by its nightly fullness. My socks are falling down. I’m not sure why. I hate the word joy now. I’m sleep deprived. My possessions call out to me for help but I don’t know if they want me to summon joy or if they want to leave. The other day my husband heard me thanking my underwear for staying up all day. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be married.” – Diane

I’m laughing and crying re-reading this review. Maybe in a few months I will be grateful. We’ll see…

My Rant About Young Adult Fiction Writers

by Leave a Comment

Here we go…

Why is it that so many writers of young adult series can’t actually finish a book these days? It seems to me that writers for young adults are getting so lazy! Three series I’ve read lately illustrate this point: Michael Vey, The Selection series and Cinder. There are many more that I have read in the past, but those are the most recent and fresh on my mind. The conclusion is so poor and plot resolution so sloppy that they might as well come to the last page and write, “If you want to find out more, please buy the next book.” When I read a conclusion like that I feel so annoyed that I don’t want to even go on to the next book unless the book is free (borrowed) and most or all of the books are already out and I won’t have to wait forever to hear the conclusion. I’m totally fine with an underlying conflict that is unresolved that threads itself through all the books, (Like Harry Potter), but the book needs to stand alone well enough that I want to buy the next book simply because I love the writing, characters, the world that the author has created. Some examples of series like this:

Anne of Green Gables: I wanted SO BADLY to find out more about Anne. Sure, I wasn’t sure who she would end up with (Please say it is Gilbert!!!), but each book stood on its own so well, and concluded so masterfully that I continued on simply because I wanted to BE in that world more. I breathed a sigh of contentment at the end, not of frustration!…

Read More »

Tending Roses

by Leave a Comment

I recently read a beautiful book called “Tending Roses” by Lisa Wingate. In it a grandmother is writing to her granddaughter. This is one of her letters:
“An old woman told me she wanted the gardens cleaned around her house, and if I would do the work I might have flower bulbs and starts of roses as my pay. My husband pretended to think the idea rather foolish as I was needed on the farm, but he was patient with me as I worked throught the early spring, cleaning gardens and moving starts to a newly tilled bed by our farmhouse.  He was older than I, and I think he understood that I needed something of my own.
Those roses were the finest things I had been given in my life, and I tended them carefully all spring.  As the days lengthened, the roses grew well and blossomed in the summer heat, as did I.  Coming in and out of the house, I would look at them — something that belonged to me, growing in soil that belonged to him.
Even passing folk admired my roses, for my work made the blooms large and full.  Once, a poor hired lady came with a bouquet of roses and wildflowers clasped in her hands.  She told me that her children had sneaked into my garden and picked them for her, and that they would be punished.  I bade her not to scold the children, for I was proud to give them this gift.  She smiled, and thanked me, and told me that, with so many children, she had no time for tending roses.
I did not understand her words until my own children were born.  When the first was a babe, I took her outside and let her play in an empty wash barrel so I could have time for tending my roses.  I was often cross with her cries while I was at my work.  As she grew, and as my second child was born, I understood what the hired lady had told me — that motherhood leaves no time for selfish pleasures.  Only time for tending others.
My roses grew wild and died as I busied myself with feeding and diapering, nursery rhymes and sickbeds.  I missed those bright blooms that had been mine and felt it unfair that I must leave my hard work there to die.  But I did not think of it overmuch.  My mind and heart were occupied with the sorrows and joys of motherhood. 
The day came, it seemed in no time, when my children were grown and gone, and I again found time to tend the roses.  I could labor over them from dawn until dusk with no children to feed, no husband needing meals, and few passerby on the old road.  My flowers have come thick and full and beautiful again.  From time to time, I see neighbor children come to pick them when I am silent in my house.  I close my eyes and listen to their laughter, and I think that the best times of my life, the times that passed by me the most quickly, were the times when the roses grew wild.”

Losing a Friend

by Leave a Comment

I just finished reading Julia Child’s autobiography, “My Life in France” and I actually feel like I miss her! I feel like my friend that I have spent three days with just moved away. She was such a rich character and of course reading about her passion for food and anything French was a delight for me. One of the things I liked about her was her total lack of materialism. Here is how her grand-nephew and co-author of her autobiography described her:
“The day Julia gave up La Pitchoune (her home in the south of France where she and her husband spent part of every year for 20 years), she simply handed the keys over to Simca’s (her friend who had died who owned the property on which they built the house) relatives and walked away. Or so she said.
But what really happened was that Julia let her niece Phila Cousins deal with handing-over the keys. On the last day there, Phila cried at giving up the beloved Pitchoune. Julia, meanwhile, cooked a Daube and then blithely went off to play golf.
When I heard this second version of the story, I didn’t know what to make of it: did Julia really not care about La Pitchoune, one of her favorite places on earth? Or, was giving up the house, in fact, too emotional, too much for her to face, so that she avoided that moment of truth?
When I asked her about this directly, Julia said that once Paul and Simca were no longer with her, La Pitchoune had lost its raison d’etre.
And then I understood: while Julia loved certain things, like her pans and knives, or places, like her wonderful houses, what she cared most about was the people around her. Julia taught us is to take the time to appreciate the people we are with, and to really communicate with them — no matter which kitchen we happen to be in.”