Reviewed today:

(I have a new post up at Grasshopper New Media — it’s about family reunions. Check it out. wm)

So, so, so.

I try to think about Elvis
Memphis
Oprah in the afternoon
I try to think about palm trees
Fig leaves
The creature from the black lagoon
I try to think about high heels
And good deals
Anything to get me through
I just can’t concentrate
You’re all I think about these days

— “I Try to Think About Elvis”
Patty Loveless

I have a stack of books here as high as my left hipbone for review, and I just have not had the time to write any reviews. (Although I have been finding time to read.) Also, my concentration is shot. What with end of summer. Worrying about my granny. Getting back up to speed after a lazy, relaxing vacation. The season finale of “America’s Got Talent.” Excuses, excuses.

Generally, if I don’t like a book I don’t review it. (Stash under “Things My Dad Told Me”: If you can’t say something nice/don’t say anything at all.) But I’ll make two exceptions here.

Robert Wilder’s new book, “Tales from the Teachers’ Lounge,” (Delacorte Press, $23, 307 pages) lost me at “Here, I’ll start out by making fun of the special ed kids. Har! Har!” Rob, it’s not funny. Also, I only sort of liked his other book “Daddy Needs a Drink,” although I gave it a decent review here.

Second, “Husbandry: Sex, Love & Dirty Laundry,” by Stephen Fried (Bantam Books, $18, 177 pages) lost me at the first sentence:

“Let’s start with my socks.”

No, let’s not. And let’s not get into the politics of housework, how women are “genetically programmed” to be quicker-picker-uppers and how “the things that you stress about are not the things I stress about” and how if you’re rude to your wife you won’t get laid, etc.

Oh, and the whole “I would have gotten around to picking up my dirty clothes eventually, it’s just more important to you than it is to me.” As long as men keep leaving the shitwork for women, we will continue to be subjugated and our real work won’t matter (or get done) because we’re kept so busy with the shitwork. Excuse me — your shitwork.

So fucking pick up your socks and shut up.

Now — a book I loved. When I first glanced at Whitney Gaskell’s new book, “Mommy Tracked,” (Bantam Books, $12, 349 pages) I cringed a little. More about Jimmy Choos, right? Manolo Blahnik’s, and the new nanny, and the mojitos and yadda yadda. I cannot relate to those books, I really can’t. (Except for the mojitos.)

It’s not that book. Meet Chloe, Anna, Grace and Juliet, and their crazy, mundane, complicated lives under pressure in Orange Cove, Florida. I read the first chapter, then put it down to call the Pink-Haired Housewife, who I’d given my other review copy to.

“It’s like reading a really juicy grown-up Judy Blume book! Go read it!” Then I hung up and finished the book. The characters were believable, and engaging. One shoplifts compulsively, one is struggling to lose weight, one (a single mom) is scared of dating, one wants to have an affair on her husband, then doesn’t want to, then does want to… will she? It’s a soap opera, but, like any good soap, it’s trickier than just the drama.

You’ve got to have believable characters. We have to be able to relate to them. They don’t have to be perfect, but you have to care about them. Check, check and check. They moved me, these women. They were rich. They made me feel like I’m not alone out here.

And great news! Gaskell has written four other novels: “Pushing 30,” “True Love (and Other Lies),” “She, Myself & I” and “Testing Kate.” Yay!

“Anger, if not restrained, is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.”

— Lucius Annaeus Seneca, philosopher (BCE 3-65 CE)

Seneca, you were smart! You philosophers — isn’t that the way it always goes? I am smart, too. I am trying to be 1) consistent 2) not angry 3) more patient. With the traffic, with the kids, with the weather, in my relationships. With the stuck-up pool ladies. (No, I’m not saying which pool. But here’s a clue to help narrow it down: The one with the most Stepford Wives. “…one of these things/is not like the other/one of these things/just doesn’t belong…” Can you guess? The thing that doesn’t belong is me.) (more…)

(That’s a whole lotta exclamation points, no? WM)

Reviewed and mentioned today:

For this week’s review, we’re talking about “Vaccinated: One Man’s Quest to Defeat the World’s Deadliest Diseases”, by Paul A. Offit, M.D. Your unfriendly reviewers are Wacky Mommy and the Pink-Housed Housewife. To start, may I, WM, just say that the book is about Montana native Maurice Hilleman, but you wouldn’t know it from the title. I thought Offit was the big genius but he’s not. They need to add Hilleman’s name to the title. (They may have — we’re reading review copies.) (Also, there are no indexes in the review copies. I have found this vexing.) (more…)

Reviewed today:

Little reviews today — only one kid is home, the girl is at Grandma’s. The boy wants to blow up my computer. Must post, post-haste… (more…)

Reviewed today:

You don’t know. You do not know from love until you’ve read “The Velveteen Rabbit” for the very first time with your five- and seven-year-old, and the Older One is grumbling, “This is stupid” and the Younger One is grousing, “That’s not what I wanted to read” and you almost set the book aside and then you get to the Skin Horse. And he only smiles and says…

“The Boy’s Uncle made me Real,” he said. “That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can’t become Unreal again. It lasts for always.”

And you’re only going to read a few pages, but you read the whole thing. And the illustrations are so beautiful, and by the end… the Older One is sighing and tells you, “That was a good book” and the younger one says, “Yeah.” You don’t know from love, until that happens.

Also, you don’t know from love until your husband reads the entire Babysitters’ Club series (all 8,000 of them) with the kids and also the entire Magic Treehouse series (all 8,003 of them) and you don’t have to.

Love. Just love and more love.

Goodnight.

WM

Reviewed today:

Wacky Mommy: Another parenting book lands on my desk. And even though I’m allegedly a “mom blogger,” I am feeling a little ‘eh’ about one more parenting book. This one is by Pennywise lead singer Jim Lindberg and it’s about his three adorable little blonde daughters and his sexy, supportive, Bunko-playing wife.

She’s not on the cover, the wife, but I’m assuming those are his kids and not models. Pink-Haired Housewife, have you ever listened to Pennywise?

Pink-Haired Housewife: First of all – no thanks to a bottle of Clairol 121A that was NOT “Dark Brown” as labeled, I am now (Joan) Jett Black-Haired Housewife. The little pot of gold at the end of my shoe polish-head rainbow is that there’a not a grey hair in sight. For now… (more…)

Dear World Wide Web,

I’m tired. I’m working full-time the next two weeks, still waiting to hear on permanent jobs, the kids are getting out of school for the summer soon, we have swim lessons ending and starting right up again, a house torn apart from our awesome painter (no you can’t have his number, I’m keeping him just for us)… weeds to pull, laundry to hang out, fifty more dollars’ worth of gas for the car? Sure thing!

God. I remember having two measly bucks, coasting my Dodge Dart into the gas station for a drink, and praying the attendant would take pity on me and give me an extra buck’s worth. I am that old.

Speaking of — my birthday is coming up. I will be 43. My mother assures me this is not old at all and to please shut up.

A brief round-up, and then I am off to do more laundry and try to figure out where my purse is. (I mean it when I say the house is torn apart. I saw my purse yesterday and haven’t seen it since.) Also, the floors? Trashed. Cooking? Not happening. Dishes? Piled up. So what do you do when you can’t deal with your own house? Go look at the homes of Others. Others Who Can Afford Gardeners and Maids.

My mom and I went on a great tour of gardens this afternoon. My new loves: Baggesen’s Gold shrub honeysuckle, California incense cedar, honey locust, climbing hydrangea, verbena, hostas, candy hearts, clematis… I got so many ideas from the three places where we stopped, I do not know where to start. Perhaps with art. My favorite garden was stuffed full of tiny and big sculptures, pieces of blown glass, decorative stepping stones, everything. It was delightful and a little kooky. But in a genuinely kooky way, not a “Look at me, I’m so kooky!” way. I do not like the “deliberate kook” she is not my style. Wacky Girl went with us and fell in love with the bus stop-sized outdoor hangout that had benches, pillows and shade and everything she’s ever dreamed of, and was just the right size for an almost-8-year-old.

I liked the greenhouse next to it. Ahhhh…

And… in lieu of a real review… next to the DVD player and and next to the nightstand at Wacky House we have:

Punk Rock Dad, by Jim Lindberg (Pennywise lead singer) — totally hilarious read. I’ll give it a full review soon (with help from the Pink-Haired Housewife, I’m hoping) but in the meantime — go pick up a copy. Pick up two and give the extra to a friend. Perfect baby shower gift, anniversary gift or birthday present for the dads (and moms) out there. He’s such a good writer, and so funny.

When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, a Spike Lee Joint, Pick up a copy of this one, too. And please do not forget, when you’re thinking about Darfur and orphans abroad and the movie stars who love them — New Orleans and the South still desperately need our help. Do what you can and do it now.

Sunshine State, directed by John Sayles

Strictly Ballroom, directed by Baz Luhrmann

Onions in the Stew, by Betty MacDonald

Blood Diamond, directed by Edward Zwick

(Yeah, try to figure out how my brain works based on that list.)

Love,

WM

Reviewed today:

“Varieties of Disturbance: Stories” by Lydia Davis

“The Dangerous Book for Boys” by Conn Iggulden and Hal Iggulden

“For the Love of Letters: A 21st-Century Guide to the Art of Letter Writing” by Samara O’Shea

Dragonology: The Complete Book of Dragons (Ologies) by Ernest Drake and Dugald Steer

“Anybody Can Do Anything” by Betty MacDonald

“Behind the Scenes at the Museum” by Kate Atkinson

(more…)

I’d like to say that I got up earlier than usual, just so I could post, but that would be a lie. I’m running late. I haven’t had my coffee. But I know when I go to read my favorite blogs and they haven’t updated, I get grouchy. Grouchy! How lame is that, to let the Information Superhighway dictate your moods? Y’all are great writers and photographers — I need my fix of your art. Oh, yeah — you’re great moms, too. But today, that is third on the list of your accomplishments.

* We’re still planning on moving to Iowa. No job offers yet. In the meantime, maybe I should… (more…)

Reviewed today:

Dear Principal of Lousy School:
Yes, I know that y’all miss my kids. Thanks for the call yesterday. They are well-behaved children and don’t cause a ruckus. But you gave us lice. We might come back next week, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. In the future, please send home a letter when you are lousy. Or at least call. Or at least check heads. Anything less is… irresponsible. Which is not a skill we want to learn at school or at home.

Here’s to being a grown-up,
WM

(more…)