In which the Suz invites you to Witness the Violence Inherent in the System

Perhaps it is the rising temperatures. Perhaps I'm riled up from the ending of the book about In-N-Out Burger. Perhaps I'm finally gaining steam on that slippery slope down to Bitchy Old Woman. Whatever. I'm a little pissed, and contemplating becoming more so. Wanna hear why?

Of course you do. What isn't fun about a Bitchy Old Woman?

This morning, I went in for the ritual of the Bitchy Old Woman in Training -- I got my hair colored. With a Mom who went gray early (not that anyone could offer photographic proof, mind you) and a paternal Grandmother who went totally white-haired before 40, this is a common ritual, and a local spa gets the privilege of my company and a nice chunk of my hard-earned wages every six weeks. Until one of my minions reports back to me with the location of that Fountain of Youth, I'm a sure thing, so they're generally nice to me at my little spa.

Today, I was about 10 minutes into my process when a stylist, not my own, asks me if I got married. An odd question since I didn't have a ring on my left hand last time, and I didn't have one on this time. I told her no, and asked why she asked (while looking at my left hand). She made a comment that I used to drive in in a little Pontiac and today I showed up in an Audi S4.

For the uninformed, you can buy a good half dozen rusted out Pontiac's for the price of an S4 in worse condition than the one I was driving. I wouldn't have known that either until I was told that as part of the Pretest to driving the S4 in question. (Yes, there is a pretest. There were essay questions.)

But I digress. The stylist's question turned my Bitchy Old Woman Ire up so fast that I felt like an Extra in The Fast and the Furious.

Yes, I showed up in a nice car. Why does that mean its likely I've hitched my wagon to a big fat wallet with a man attached? I believe this is indicative of a larger problem in the perception of Bitchy Old Women in this country. Yes, I was driving the Crimefighter's car, but that isn't the only way the scenario could have gone down.

So the next time you find yourself next to a woman whose circumstances have become rosy, let's consider alternative reasons she could have quadrupled my car wealth in 6 weeks. shall we?

• I just finished my dissertation and received tenure.
• I just sold my screenplay.
• I got a big promotion based on years of hard work.
• I've been scrimping and saving since I first got a job and finally bought myself the car of my dreams.
• I borrowed it from a friend.
• I did REALLY well in Vegas.
• I took my crappy car into the shop, and have an OUTSTANDING loaner car.
• I stole this car and decided to get a little pretty on before beginning my life on the lam.

There are a whole lot of reasons why I might have upgraded my car on my own merit. Why not consider one of those first? If the Crimefighter suddenly showed up in a Jaguar, how many people would think I or any other woman had anything to do with his being able to afford it?

If all of my other options are so unbelievable, how's about trying one other possibility:

• It's none of your business.

On the upside, my hair looks FABULOUS.

The Suz wonders whether she sparkles

I have a lot of free time in the summer. A lot. It's totally by design, and this won't be a post where I apologize for it. Last time: I eat a lot of pasta in the winter, I don't have kids, and I chose well in that my job is closed in the summer. If it helps you to think I'll die alone in some sort of diabetic coma.... well, you go right ahead and think that. I'll be over in aisle ten buying something cool I don't really need in every color they make it in.

Life is choices.

That said, a lot of free time means I spend a lot of time unwisely. I always have high hopes for the summer: daily overdoing it at the gym, writing the great American novel, actually cleaning out closets I don't remember filling..... but then the temp hits 90 one day, and I realize I'm done for the summer. Whatever. I'll attempt to change the lives of others after Labor Day.

One of the things I love about summer is the ability to catch up on my DVR. It's all I can do from Labor Day til Memorial Day to keep the darn thing from filling, as I enjoy a lot of mindless television the Crimefighter can't stomach. I watch it in snatches every time he heads out. A well timed trip to the Home Depot for him can net me a good episode and a half of Jerseylicious for me.

Yeah, I love reality TV. Not all of it, but what I love, I love purely. I know it's fake (I do a whole unit in the Spring concerning how fake it is and how it produces unhealthy views of race and gender to an unsuspecting nation), but sometimes you just want the heat to stop and the grey matter in your brain to drain slowly out, if only for a time.

Wednesday was, perhaps, the high point of the crappy reality TV summer season -- the season premiere of Toddlers & Tiaras. I actually did DVR this, but not because it's a program I watch regularly. It was mentioned in Peggy Oresnstein's Cinderella Ate my Daughter, and I thought she made some good points. In her discussion of The Princess Beast that Ate American Girls, she went on the road with some of the more famous contestants and offered a perspective not given by the meritorious producers of our show. One of the "stars" of the show, if a child routinely exploited by both her parents and the powers that be in the show can be referred to as the "star," actually got into the pageant world because she has a sibling with catastrophic disabilities who requires almost constant care from both parents 24/7. Her mother wanted to be able to give her able-bodied daughter some time to be in the spotlight since she does not get the same amount of time with her parents as her brother does. This must be concentrated into small bursts, like one glitz-filled pageant every two months. Toddlers & Tiaras doesn't show this because it is a "downer," but the show does pay for all the pageant fees these parents couldn't otherwise afford due to medical expenses. Talk about a rock and a hard place for parents.

Toddlers & Tiaras is, when it comes to criticism either television or culture based, shooting fish in a very small barrel. That said, I think the American public is aiming its criticism in completely the wrong place. Sure, I find it disturbing to see little girls dressed up like they are shooting the new Britney Spears video. Sure, the mothers doing the dances on the sidelines are more than a little grotesque, but I think both parties can be excused somewhat. We live in an age of extremely permissive, child-desires-based parenting, and beauty pageants seem to be just another, albeit extremely expensive and weird, branch in a pretty well-accepted, deeply-rooted tree. The contestants themselves? Well, any Child Psych 101 textbook will tell you that anything that garners positive attention is going to hit the mark with your average toddler. I even understand the people who organize the pageants. They charge a grand to enter the pageant of 150 girls and give out $5000 total prize money and about $4.25 worth of cheap plastic trophies. This is the cash cow that will not die.

Yes, I know these shows promote the image that to be a successful female means to be beautiful, and I know that the spectrum of what constitutes beauty is quite narrow (not to mention a little slutty). I know that families bankrupt themselves and cause their daughters to become spoiled divas only focused on image. That said, these messages hardly occur in a vacuum, and at least in pageants they get a trophy and a crown. You don't get that from reading books and graduating from a top-tiered school. Trust me. I know. I looked.

So we feel scornful, but we need a place to heap that scorn..... and this is where I find myself looking at..... the judges. On the season opener of Toddlers & Tiaras, I thought for a moment I was watching that old Kirstie Allie classic Drop Dead Gorgeous. Who ARE these people? I get wanting to strut your stuff on stage. I get wanting to see your daughter be told she's the best. I get wanting to make fat cash by exploiting the weaknesses of women who have done nothing with their lives other than procreate and have a desperate need to get a physical sign that they've done so well.

What I don't get is who gets up on a Saturday morning, dons a sequined cocktail dress, and spends their day evaluating the "sexiness and sparkle" of 4 year old girls in spray tans and hair pieces? These are attractive women in their twenties who must have had a better offer for their Friday night and Saturday morning than sitting in the ballroom of the Howard Johnson's judging the relative merits of some strip mall dentist's fake teeth and some overworked seamstress from the 3rd world's beadwork. Hell, I'm 5'2", 38, rarely wear makeup, and inherited my mother's ankles (or lack thereof) and *I* have better offers.

Then again, maybe I just lack sparkle.

Shame

So, I started this whole reading challenge, easily downshifted into the life of the unemployed, and got ready to feel superior to the masses due to my mad crazy reading skillz (yes, that's with a Z, my friends. I'm a machine). Then, out of the blue, my friends start DISCUSSING the books they are reading and having insightful things to say. Well.....shit.

This is when I begin to feel the shame. I should add that this began happening about two weeks ago, so it is wicked slow acting shame, but there you go.

I AM way ahead in the whole "page count" category, but I realize that my reading taste, compared to that of the smarties with whom I choose to spend my time, may be quite lacking. I would say, "Screw it; it's summer," but when the thermometer reads 50 and the books aren't all that different than when the thermometer reads 20..... Um..... I'm beginning to think that if books were booze, I would be the chick at the bar strung out on Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I'll set the stage. I finally decided to unpack from the move a year and a half ago, so a lot of my day is spent trying on clothes that used to fit. Then, natch, the rest of the day is spent in sweats and drinking. Don't judge me. The funny thing is that in the same section of my closet I will find things that used to be loose that are now unzippable, but I also find things that used to be wicked tight that now fall off me. Clearly, this doesn't mean I'm necessarily becoming the human pudding pop I have always had inside me...... I've decided to blame the fabrics and the weather. Project Runway starts in a few weeks. I'll find some excuse that doesn't make me switch to the creepy olive oil mayonnaise. God bless Tim Gunn.

Mornings, though, are my relaxation time. I actually have the most energy in the early morning, but right after their morning ablutions is when the pack settles down for their long winter's nap, and one learns to adapt. Because I love my partner in crime, I've moved the 'puter up to my "office" (read, a place to put all the tacky crap I've picked up along the way that the Crimefighter really doesn't want to see on the mantle even though my acrylic polar bears bequeathed to me by a student would look EXCELLENT up there), and I try to spend at least an hour every morning doing something that doesn't involve raising my blood pressure talking to silly deluded people from South Carolina about how I'm not fulfilling my role as the Crimefighter's "helpmate" and who do I think I am to take a vacation by myself and not give him babies? (The answer, by the way, is that Gerry likes having the house to himself during baseball season, and if I presented him with a baby, he would want to exchange it for a handy attachment for the riding lawnmower..... sorry. It's who we are).

So, 2 Crimefighting Sidekicks at my feet, here's what I've made it through this summer, bookwards:

• Cinderella Ate my Daughter by Peggy Orenstein. I've loved what Orenstein has to say about American girls since I encountered Schoolgirls in an Intro to Education course in college. This book was a strong start to the summer. It helped put into words the unsettled feelings I have with the American Girls dolls and the Disney Princess line. Above all, it made me really happy not to have to raise a daughter in contemporary American society. I've never been a big fan of damned if you do and damned if you don't situations. A very even-handed approach to a landscape of peril.
• Fablehaven: Grip of the Shadow Plague by Brandon Mull. This is a fun middle school series. I'm fascinated by re-tellings of fairy tales, and I'm a fantasy novel reader. Would that these kinds of books were around when I was growing up. I probably could have gotten my full-on geek on much sooner. Two kids work with their aging grandparents to protect fairy creatures from the outside world (and protect the outside world from the fairy creatures). A nice mix of creatures acting as they do in classic literature and those who are simply misunderstood. Good for people who liked the Sisters Grimm series but have outgrown its reading level.
• Savannah Blues by Mary Kay Andrews. Every now and again (like when it's really really cold outside) I like to read a good round of silly Southern literature. Andrews is better than the standard chick lit fare. Her characters are a little more interesting than the herd of drawling heroines that line the shelves at Barnes and Noble. That said, this one took me longer than you would think. I did find myself caring more about the information on antiques and home renovation than the relationships.
• Belle Weather by Celia Rivenbark. Love Celia. A series of essays on moving into a new house. I laughed at some of them until it hurt. While we moved a year ago, I spent most of last summer laid up, so now is when we are really getting into the arguments about wall colors and new furniture.
• Fundraising the Dead by Sheila Connolly. Your standard $7.99 paperback mystery series. Not terrible, but I didn't run out and buy the rest of them. Mystery set in a museum. I knew whodunnit by about page 12 (hint: don't make the shifty-eyed dog QUITE so shifty-eyed. KThxBye.). This is also the first author in the list (I'm going in order) that I had to look up on Amazon. That says something, I think.
• Miss Julia Rocks the Cradle by Ann Ross. I like this series. It reads quickly and reminds me of all the fine older Southern ladies from my hometown. I recommend this one to anyone who would like their older parents (especially Moms) to read more. The basic premise is that a widowed wealthy Southern lady finds out her husband had a protracted affair with a younger woman that resulted in a son, her dead husband's only heir. Through a series of wacky hi-jinks that make for delightful reading, Miss Julia decides to embrace the mistress and her son. Throughout the series, they all become a family, with new additions in almost every book. This is fun and sweet and counteracts the nightly news well on one of those evenings where you just can't care anymore. This series is one of those old friends I catch up with when I have the time. I'm not at the bookstore the Tuesday it comes out in hardcover, but I make sure to stop in and say hello when I have some free time.)
  
• Rowan Hood by Nancy Springer. My first audio book of the trip down the Eastern Seaboard. Tales of Robin Hood's daughter after the death of her mother. A quest to find Robin Hood. An interesting take without much actual history. The Merry Men are a fun lot, though. It describes well "the other side of the story" or how much not fun being a girl would have been then.
• The Mailbox by Audrey Shafer. Audio book #2. This was a tear jerker. A boy bounces out of the foster care system and into the home of his Vietnam War veteran uncle. When the Uncle dies, the boy doesn't want to go back into foster care. Someone (we don't know who) is helping the boy live on his own. An interesting little mystery and some good information about the bonds of vets from the Vietnam War.
• The Roar by Emma Clayton. YA dystopian novel about, among other things, class struggle and eco-terrorism. I think there needs to be (and probably will be) a sequel. I'll reserve judgment for that. I'm not a huge fan of cliffhangers in books. It's unnecessary. If you write engaging characters, then people will read your follow-ups.
• Nation by Terry Pratchett. I have a confession to make. I don't get Terry Pratchett. I feel like I do in Chinatown or New Orleans -- there's something going on that I'm not seeing, and I'm not sure if I want to see it or not. Fantastical/parallel universe tale of a boy caught between boyhood and manhood and between cultures with different agendas. There's a fair amount of "trust no one over 30" as well. Who does?
• Half the Sky by Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. This is, by far, the most amazing book I've read in a long time. Based on the Mao's assertion that "women hold up half the sky," this is a blatant (they cop to it on page 3) attempt to open Americans' eyes to the desperate plight of women in most of the world. Lots of awesome information. Worth a read by anyone. So moving, I'm thinking about reorganizing my 111 class at Northeastern. I love the authors' assertion that oppression of women is the root cause of terrorism, a thought I've held for a long time. Speaking at a Saudi conference on technology, Bill Gates was asked what he thought the Saudi's chances for being in the top ten of technological advancement in the next ten years. His response? If the Saudis refused to utilize fifty percent of the resources of the country, they shouldn't expect to EVER enter the top quarter, let along the top ten per cent. Saudi women cheered. Too bad our own government doesn't feel like Gates does.
• Spackled and Spooked by Jennie Bentley. Another fun mystery -- this one featuring a crimefighting duo of home restorers. I like the home improvement tips, if the mystery is a bit weak. What the heck? It's fun. I needed it after Half the Sky.
  
• Spider's Bite (Elemental Assassin) by Jennifer Estep. Because every now and again, I miss books with vampires, werewolves, witches and other things that go bump in the night in them. I've read a lot better; I've read a lot worse.
  
• Shine by Lauren Myracle. Myracle is better known for her text message themed books (TT4N, TTYL, L8R G8R, etc) but this one is actually interesting and well-written. A compelling portrait of growing up in a small town that the rest of the world forgot. Reminded me a lot of the town I grew up in and how hard it is for a lot of people to get out. Oh, and there's a meth ring and gay bashing and alcoholics...... so it reflects contemporary small town society accurately if not prettily.

And there you have it. A buttload of books, very few of which I would recommend to everyone without a coda. The exception is Half the Sky. Truly moving. Cinderella Ate my Daughter is also delightful, to a certain audience anyway. Right now, I am trying to settle into the next one I will finish. Working on a book about gypsies (non-fiction), a YA fairy tale retelling, a work of short stories, and The Happiness Project which is awesome so far but needs to be read in pieces.

And that is my shame sort of lifting.......

Summer Reading Challenge!

Facebook continues to amaze me. Sometimes things we think are crucial whiz by people's pages so fast that they disappear into the ether totally comment free. Sometimes things we start as a lark become something neat. That's what seems to have happened here.

Long Story Short: Every summer, I try to set myself a goal. Having no interest in the goal of "working" as I do far enough of that during the year, I decided that this summer I would read 50 pages a day every day. This isn't a terribly lofty goal for myself (probably should have done something involving a "gym" or some such), but it's a goal. I told a friend she should join me. She did. On a lark, I posted the following on Facebook:

We got two people on the Summer Reading Challenge! Anyone else tough enough? (50 pages a day, every day, no holidays, from the Day you accept the Challenge through Labor Day).

Now, it seems as if it is kind of becoming a thing. So, in its infancy, here goes. This is close to what I ask my students at Mount Ida to do (except they read 25 pages a week, on account of we do other stuff and write a lot too).

Summer Reading Challenge: 50 Pages a day, no holidays, no exceptions, from the day you accept the challenge until Labor Day. Any book (has to be a book). Any subject (but hopefully a title you will cop to reading).

What you do: Nothing other than the reading, really. I would hope that you would consent to making at least one facebook post a week telling the world THAT you are reading and that you are getting something out of it. It never fails to amaze me what I get out of the books I read. If nothing else, I feel a great deal of joy when someone is talking about something I've never really studied and I'm able to pull a factoid seemingly as if from mid-air.

Rules: Don't lie. This is a Summer Reading Challenge. We're not playing for a Porsche here. What's the point?

eReader Pages vs. "Real" book Pages: Use your best judgement. Push yourself, but again Summer Reading Challenge, not the Olympics.

Levels of Membership:

1. Level One: "I'm only doing this because I was drunk one night and said I would." OR "I knew you wouldn't shut up until I said I would try." Leave me alone.
2. Level Two: I really want to try this, but I'm wicked busy. Ask me what I've read from time to time, but leave me alone if I ignore you. I have a life.
3. Level Three: I really really want to do this. I'm might need a push. Taunt me if I slack off for no good reason.

There you have it. Get to reading. Post here or on Facebook. Have fun!

Tips for Reluctant Readers:

Don't ever feel like you have to finish a book you start. I love books, but some suck. I would hate to think that my happy fun reading challenge made someone feel as if they were obligated to finish Twilight. Good rule of thumb: If a book hasn't caught you in 100 minus your age pages, choose a new book. Life is short.

If 50 pages sounds daunting, you can try Young Adult novels. I'm hooked, and I swear many out there are better than most adult lit.

If you have kids, read things that are LIKE what they are reading. This is better than reading WHAT they are reading because you have things to talk about, but they don't feel like you are screening their reading and they still get to be the expert on their own book. I promise you won't regret it. It gives you something to talk about with your kids that isn't rules and what they can and cannot do or what they should or shouldn't do. Think of it as a free conversation with your kid. If it's hard for you to get through the pages, share that with them, especially if they don't like to read. Can you think of a better lesson to teach your kids than having them see you do something even though it's hard? Something they can relate to?

Please share your tips on getting through if it is hard. Like any skill, it gets easier with practice.

Have fun! Happy Reading! See you soon, I hope.

OK, so maybe this assignment does suck a little (when the book does)

Week 2 Journal
The Scorch Trials
James Dashner
Pages 1-340 (the whole thing!)

This week, I have to put aside Born Round for a very simple reason – I checked The Scorch Trials by Dashner 3 weeks ago from the local library, the book was due, and I couldn’t renew it because someone else was waiting on it. A practical reason for allowing The Scorch Trials to jump ahead of the other books in line, but as I found out this week, not one that lends itself to making me like the book unnecessarily.
First of all, I chose to read this book because I read the one that came before it. Dashner has proposed a trilogy and The Scorch Trials is the second one, coming after The Maze Runner which I read over the summer on a recommendation from my “Book Tracker” function on Facebook (which I love). In The Maze Runner we were introduced to a group of boys who lived in a controlled community (I’m a BIG fan of Dystopian Adolescent Literature – that means books for teenagers which are set in a very bleak future). Every month, an elevator arrives in this community carrying supplies the boys need and a brand new boy who has no memory of his past. One day, the main character arrives. The next week, three weeks ahead of schedule, another person arrives in the elevator, but this time it’s a girl. She carries a note saying “I am the last one ever.” The story goes on from there, and it was quite interesting. The boys worked together to finally make their way through a maze that surrounded their community and made it, in the final pages, to freedom.
The Scorch Trials picks up soon thereafter. It turns out that the boys are NOT safe and that the Maze was merely the first step in a plan to prepare them to save humanity which has been overcome first by sun flares that wiped out a lot of humanity and then by a new virus which slowly turns the carriers into zombie like creatures. The survivors from the first book are then given the task of making it through 100 miles of desert towns to reach their goal.
This book just didn’t work as well as The Maze Runner for many reasons. First of all, the setting of the maze – the creepy atmosphere and the unseen puppet masters that are so central to the first book are completely absent. It’s sort of like we already know too much and can’t recapture any kind of suspense that is really needed in this type of story. I liken it to when the couple in a TV show that everyone wants to get together finally does and then the show falls apart. There was no reason for me to keep caring about these characters.
There are parts of The Scorch Trials that I found cool, if not really enough to carry the whole book. The zombie type characters are really scary. That said, I would have liked to see more fear and less resignation in the characters who know they have been infected and who know they will lose their minds but haven’t yet. Wouldn’t that be terrifying?
Also, it should be mentioned that both The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials contain this sort of hybrid language developed by the boys while they were trapped in the maze. I guess it makes sense that confined people would create new words for things – especially kids who had had their prior memory wiped – but it’s clunky. I guess I see THAT they would create a new language; I just don’t care for the one Dashner has created. It feels like a cheap knock-off of Lord of the Flies, and he’s no Golding.

What have I Gotten Myself Into?

Ever hear yourself saying something you really don't want to say, but then you said it and it was out there hanging in a word bubble over your head and no matter how much you want to take it back, you can't? That's me in my first day of classes at Mount Ida this semester.

I make my students read for pleasure and journal about their reading. They bitch. They moan. They gripe. They grouse (isn't that a great word?) about the impossibility of the situation.

So, Wednesday (first day of classes) I hear myself saying, "Of course it's possible. In fact, I'll do it with you."

Damn! See that uneraseable air bubble up there? Yep, it's mine. Oh well. Here's my first attempt. Maybe it'll get me writing real stuff here.

Background they know: I picked the following book because I heard the author interviewed on NPR + it was 50% off at Barnes and Noble. That is what we in the Book Addiction business call kismet.
Background they don't know: I deliberately picked a book I felt "Meh" about because I thought I would give it up and show them by example that they are allowed to do that too.

Journal #1:

I honestly didn’t really expect to enjoy Born Round: A Story of Family, Food, and a Ferocious Appetite. In fact, I chose to start a book that I wasn’t incredibly excited about in an attempt to show how connections can be found between whatever someone reads and their own life.
I started Born Round during the time in between my office hours at Mount Ida and my first class at Northeastern. I usually have about an hour and a half, and I thought that would give me enough time to get through at least most of my reading. I wound up reading the Introduction and whole first chapter, around 30 pages, and I had to hustle to get to my class!

Born Round unexpectedly had me laughing from the Introduction. The book opens with the author working as a correspondent in Italy (incidentally, a place I’ve never been but definitely tops on my list of next places I’d love to go) when he gets a call to become a food critic in America. I found myself laughing because leaving Italy to become a food critic in America seems kind of like leaving the Vatican to study religion in a biker bar. While I’ve never been to Italy, I’ve had a lot of Italian students and colleagues through the years. Bar none, they are obsessed with food, specifically good food. Every single one of them would have been appalled by my Pizza Hut greasy lunch!

Born Round covers a topic everyone can relate to – our relationship with food. American eating choices disturb me. Even before picking up this book, I have an interest in healthier eating (not claiming I have an ideal diet by any means!). I heard someone say once, “If your Grandmother wouldn’t have known what it is, it CAN’T be food.” I think that’s true.

We all have a history of food. I can’t say I can relate to the author’s constant ranking of candy bars in order of preference, and I certainly never threw up to make room for more food as a toddler (like the author claims he did). That said, the role food played in his family does bear some resemblance of the role food played in mine. I think our parents had similar ideas about what exactly it meant to provide nourishment to a family.

Starting on page 13, the author relays his favorite foods at different ages. As my taste buds have certainly change and I hope evolved, it is funny to hear of the “gross” foods others once found so appealing. For the author, it was lamb chops (I have no idea – my family didn’t do lamb). For me, it was hot dogs. I can’t STAND hot dogs now, but while I was growing up, they were my family’s go to meal for me. The author’s obsession about food (on page 14: “The quiche had to cool for about 45 minutes before it could be eaten; I knew because I’d often kept count.”) definitely goes way beyond what mine ever was, but the abject devotion to particular foods is, indeed, universal.

The author attempts to explain his mother by saying that she threw her talents and efforts that could have very easily been channeled into work outside the home into feeding and caring for her family. “Those schoolmates had nicer homes, nicer clothes. But they didn’t eat any better than he did.” I think this is true of a lot of smart talented women of the 50s and 60s. They had nothing to stimulate them outside of the home so they might have often gone overboard inside the home. This lasts even today when most women work. I often find myself thinking that the messy house, when it is messy, is always my fault, even if none of the mess is mine….. Wonder why that is? Maybe something to think about as I continue this book…..

I love the author’s references to meals in his house as “gastronomic rugby matches.” I love eating with big noisy families who reach and grab all over each other and chow down with the confidence and happiness of a table that has never known hunger. Meals at my house, both growing up and now, are far more “civilized” affairs, much like those of the author’s mother’s childhood home (from page 15: “Harry would get 8 ounces of steak. Everyone else would get four to five ounces apiece. And everyone would chew it slowly, with firmly closed mouths.”) I don’t know what I’m getting at here. I guess dinner at the Bruni household – even though it made the author pretty chunky for most of his life – sounds really really fun.

I also laughed out loud (to the chagrin of all the other diners in Curry Student Center!) at the scene revolving around the author’s Grandmother’s homemade sausage. I laughed because I vaguely remember, when my family first moved from Connecticut to South Carolina in the 1970s, my father’s horror to discover that there was NO Italian sausage available anywhere! It’s hard to imagine, in today’s globalized world, a time when things just couldn’t be gotten in the grocery store, but it really existed when I was younger. It wasn’t just the South. I have only recently seen things here readily available to me in South Carolina as a kid. Anyway, this lack of homemade sausage was, in my Father’s mind, bordering on sacrilegious, so he got a whole bunch of his friends from work together (they were all transplanted from Connecticut), went in on a side of pork, and they all made homemade Italian sausage. For the record, although all the kids of all the family’s got together and played and made some of the greatest childhood memories I have….. The making of Italian sausage is gross, and will make the highest end kitchen kinda look like a slaughterhouse.

I’m looking forward to reading more about this family. There’s nothing wrong with a love of food, but it will be interesting to see how the author (now decidedly not “round”) gets his insatiable cravings and unstoppable curiosity about food under control. I’m thrilled today was a snow day because I really wanted to read further in this book, but found myself not wanting to get too far ahead before I had time to stop and write this journal.

I hope this helps show you a little about what I mean when I say you should “use” the text rather than just report the events. I know that you can read something and put the events in chronological order. What I want to hear is your reaction to the text and why you have that reaction. Go down memory lane. You didn’t need to hear about my childhood memories, I know. What connecting the book to my memories does FOR ME is to help me remember some of the details (not all – no one remembers everything) for the next time I pick up the book. I did NOT include a lot of stuff that happens in the text. That isn’t the point of a journal. It’s there for YOU to make SOME meaning from the book FOR YOU. I also didn’t bog you down with details. You don’t know what paper he was working for. Why? Because it wasn’t what I felt like focusing on in this entry. Try less to “get it right” and just write. Good luck on your journals.