Reviewed today:

Sophie Kinsella is good. Good plotting, good characters, good reading. (And not just summer reading, either. She gets a rep for that because of her popular “Shopaholic” series, but I like to read her year round.) I loved “Remember Me?” even though I just dug through my archives and it looks like I forgot to review it. Whoops.

Her new one, “Twenties Girl,” (Dial Press) is a lot of fun. The set-up: a 20s-something woman, Lara Lington, who is in work and love trouble, is required to attend the funeral of her 105-year-old great-auntie, Sadie. Sadie, you would think, would be occupied. Being dead and all. But no — she is at the funeral (but seen only by Lara) and demanding to know the whereabouts of her necklace. Good reading.

Judy Blume’s latest, “Friend or Fiend?” (Delacorte Press, $12.99, 109 pages) stars two of my favorite Blume characters, the Pain and the Great One, aka first-grade Jake and third-grade Abigail. They still aren’t getting along that well, but they’re having a lot of fun, anyway. Blume also gives us the backstory of one Fluzzy, the cat the siblings fight over. What happened on that dark and stormy night? We enjoyed this one a lot at our house, especially the New York scenes with the Pain and the Great Ones hideous cousins. Perfect for readers up to fourth- or fifth-grade.

“Monsterology” (by Dr. Ernest Drake, edited by Dugald A. Steer, Candlewick Press, $19.99)… where do I start with the “‘Ology” books? We have several of them at our house, and enjoy them all. They’re big, they’re fancy, they’re not too expensive, and they’re not too precious. By that I mean — even with the fold-out maps, the “samples” of amber, hippogriff feathers, the “scrap of spell-casting parchment for attracting mermaids” and all the other oodles of goodies — they’re still usable. You can play with them, pore over them, really use and learn from them and they don’t (easily) fall apart at the seams. I like that in a book, especially a fancy one.

This one features several of Wacky Boy’s favorites: the Loch Ness Monster, the Hippogriff, the Mermaids and Mermen. We like the Griffins. We appreciate the “challenges to the charlatans.” And the map of “Fabulous Creatures of the World”? Fabulous. Nice work, team.

“I struggle with enormous discrepancies: between the reality of motherhood and the image of it, between my love for my home and the need to travel, between the varied and seductive paths of the heart. The lessons of impermanence, the occasional despair and the muse, so tenuously moored, all visit their needs upon me and I dig deeply for the spiritual utilities that restore me: my love for the place, for the one man left, for my children and friends and the great green pulse of spring.” – photographer Sally Mann – “Still Time” catalogue

(Got this off Facebook, my new muse… wm)

OK, you know I love Dooce and Jon, and I think they are really hilarious almost every day. The other days they just break my heart, or, alternately, show me cute baby pix. But this is the funniest ever, of Chuck-Chuck-Bo-Buck and his forbidden lover.

My son: “Quick! Everybody close your eyes and let’s play ‘Who Licked Me?'” (Grandma and me, quick!: “No.”)

My daughter: “We’re playing a game — ‘What’s That Dead Thing?'”) (Me: “That is not a good game.”)

My daughter: “He’s counting up the dead squirrels and I’m counting up the dead cats and we’re going to see who has more by the time we get home.” (Me: “No.”) (Cats would have won. Uh. Lost.)

Both kids: “Woooooo-ah-woooooooo-ah-wooooooooooo-ah-woooooooooooo…” (That’s the “Sound of the Ambulance” game.) (Steve and me: “Please stop.”)

Both kids, again: “Let’s play the ‘See Who Can Be Quiet the Longest” game?” (Me: “Absolutely.”)

The funnest game was the “Sexy” game. We saw a sign for Sexy something… no, not lingerie. Or ladies. “Sexy Lawnmower Repair” or something, coming back from Newport. The kids thought that was funny, because we have a place called “Sexy Coffee” in the neighborhood. “Oooooooh, Sexy Coffee!” So this game is easy — you just add “sexy” to the beginning of everything:

“Sexy Road Repairs Ahead”
“Sexy Spirit Mountain Casino”
“Sexy Elk Jerky”
“Sexy Portland 22 Miles”

You get the idea. Sexy.

How’s your summer?

wm

…but actually it was only 100. At almost 7 o’clock at night. All of you people who now live in Portland and are actually from someplace else, someplace where they had lots of heat and “humididity,” who run around saying, Oh, I just LOVE this heat I just LOVE the sun I just LOVE this weather Portland is SOOOO PERFECT… really, stop saying that.

We Portlanders are just big wusses and don’t do well with anything over, hmm, dunno. Eighty-two degrees? Seventy-eight, mebbe? Ditto all you Portlanders who brag and smugly say, We don’t even need air-conditioning here, it hardly ever gets over 90 and it is only hot about two days out of the whole year the rest of the time it is just gorgeous… really. You need to stop saying that, too. I am the biggest baby in the heat, I hate love everybody especially you.

Steve, just now, “Let’s check the temp outside, then see if it’s time for another round of drinks.”

Oh, he is a pretty nice guy. Vodka lemonades on ice it is.

His ex-girlfriend posted on Facebook, “EMBRACE THE HEAT” and I’m all, EMBRACE THIS: THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NOT BE FB FRIENDS WITH YOUR HUSBAND’S EX, BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO READ SHIT LIKE “EMBRACE THE HEAT.”

OMFG, as my son would say. Yes, my seven-year-old says OMFG. Don’t judge me — embrace me. No, don’t. I’m too sweaty.

We still can’t open up the house — it’s 10 degrees hotter outside than in. Why do I not have air, you ask?

“YOU’RE KILLING THE POLAR BEARS.” — my children, in unison

No, for real — it’s because our lameass furnace wouldn’t “support” an air-conditioner and we’d need a whole new one. To the tune of how ever many thousands of bucks I don’t happen to have. Window units? We’d need to re-wire, our wiring is that old. Yep. Embrace that.

Just got back from Night at the Museum 2, All Hell Breaks Loose at the Smithsonian, featuring more monkey slappin’, Amy Adams’ ass, The Thinker’s ass, and Hank Azaria’s large, beefy arms.

Not featuring Carla Gugino, aka the History Hottie, aka the Ben Stiller Love Interest, from the first movie. Apparently she’s too busy with her gig on Entourage to bother. Amy Adams was pretty good though, what with the voluptuous behind and all.

Ben Stiller kinda phoned it in. My kids didn’t seem to notice. The actor who plays his kid in the film should have had a bigger role, he’s a cool kid.

We had dentist appointments, all three of us. Air-conditioning. Then Flying Pie pizza, also air-conditioned. (And my solution to the whole “cooking issue.” This is Steve’s solution. Cheaper than mine, per usual.) Then the movies. Tomorrow we might just melt, but that’s the way it goes here, the land where it just never gets that hot.

What we had for dinner this week:

Sunday: Roasted beets (not purple) and carrots (purple) plus basil from the garden, garlic, new potatoes and onions over brown rice; whole wheat biscuits with butter and honey; cherries.

Monday: Pizza Fino! Garlic knots, Caesar salad, focaccia with bean-pesto dip, cheese pizza, pasta Alfredo, pasta with penne, calzone with red peppers and onions. Bonus points: happy hour menu, so it was all cheap, with leftovers, even.

Tuesday: And, because we just cannot get enough pasta over here… Cheese tortellini with alfredo sauce (five-ingredient recipe), greens, cantaloupe slices. The way I did the greens was sooooo good. Oh my gosh, good. I sauteed diced onions with a couple of teaspoons of spice mix my in-laws found for us — Moroccan Spice Mix, with cilantro, lemon, cumin, paprika, onion, garlic, ginger, pepper, mint, cinnamon, raisins, salt and red chiles. Would you like their website? Cocinadelmundospices.com. I washed and chopped rainbow chard, layered that on top of the onions and spices, poured some water on top, simmered, stirred, covered. Once everything was looking right, I took the lid off and let it all kind of braise. Perfect.

Wednesday: Life fell apart. Again. Thai take-out. (Tsunami Thai, home of the best entree ever known to woman — delicious, salty-sweet mango and salmon over rice.)

Thursday: Have no idea.

Friday: Um. Pizza Fino again.

Saturday: Tsunami Thai. Again.

People, my family and I cannot live on take-out! I have to start cooking! Please advise? It’s supposed to be 100 degrees just about every day next week, I have no air-conditioning and do not feel like heating up the kitchen, my kids refuse to eat anything that isn’t macaroni and cheese. Help? Gazpacho? Our tomatoes aren’t ready yet, but I could buy some.

Also, I am still bummed out about my Grandma and missing her so much. It hasn’t even been three months, but you know our society — “Get over it now, would you? Cuz you’re bumming me out.” Grief just kicks my ass. I am tired and need a flipping break. But the cooking cannot be avoided. Nor can the laundry. Everything else? Too bad, you’ll just have to wait.

xo

wm

ps I finally finished my 663-page textbook I’ve been working on forever. One more test + term paper = done.

pss even though I’m not at BlogHer, i did manage to grab dinner out with my girlfriend, and it was so nice. See? Left the house! Also took the kids to OMSI last week. See? Left the house! Today we launched model rockets. Fun.

Debi & Gabriele are my two favoritest bloggers right now (along with my girl Lelo, of course. Go look at pix of her glorious garden).

The new episode they posted on Under the Tuscan Gun includes a great recipe, a tour of Roman ruins and a rousing rendition of “Dante’s Inferno.” Right on.

Wacky Boy: “I could eat the hell outta some cheese pizza.”

My husband’s earliest memory: Watching the Apollo 11 moon landing, July 20th, 1969. Happy 40th anniversary, rocket men.

Just got back from bike ride — Sunday Parkways. It was hot and kicked my butt. Fun flying down Alameda Ridge. We’re out in the yard with the kids now, getting all goofy, telling them about their births. (What brought this up? I have no idea.)

me: “You were ten pounds plus (my girl), you were nine and a half (my boy). You were so huge, you were like preschoolers. You just walked on out and started playing.”

Hockey God: “Yeah, son, you were all, ‘I want sprinkles on my sundae’ and she was all, ‘Where the hell’s the whipped cream?'”

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

(ps there’s one more Sunday Parkways, those of you who are in Portland and want to go.)