Man, I loved Tori Spelling’s memoir, “sTORI Telling.” Yes, she had a writer help her with it, but it’s her voice, her stories, all Tori, all the time. I love that girl. Yes, I was a big 90210 and Melrose Place fan, back in the olden days before there was high-def TV. Her dad was just a crazy writing, producing, Hollywood machine gun of a guy, and her mom is named Candy and loves to buy shit and… The Spellings are as close as we have to royalty in this country we call the U.S. of A., no? Steve and I think her husband, Dean McDermott, is funny as hell, too, cuz he played Stan Ryckman in one of our favorite TV shows ever, The Tournament. (It’s a Canadian show about hockey, it’s as if they designed it just for us.) I love those two, and their kids, and their other kids (their goats) and that’s all. xoxoxoxoxox to you and your family, Tori. Next?

Oh, yes. Next is the bad news. I tried to read Jeffrey Eugenides’s (“The Virgin Suicides”) latest, “The Marriage Plot.” Made it through the first 71 pages. Yeah, you “take a pee.” “One takes a pee.” “One uses the bathroom.” Whatever. (This is an “adult” book.) You do not “pee with taurine force” (p. 59.) (Yeah, your guess is correct. “Like a bull.”) You have breasts. You may even have pale breasts. But a “pale, quiet, Episcopalian breast”? (p. 71.) Now you’re just trying to show off wif your writing, boy. Eh.

Next? “Wildwood,” by Colin Meloy (from the band the Decemberists, and that one episode of the TV show “Portlandia”) and his lovely wolf, Carson Ellis. Was it named for Wildwood restaurant, the fancy-shmancy place in Northwest Portland? Maybe they like to eat there or something. I do not know. Oh! It’s named for the Wildwood Trail in Forest Park, no doubt. There you go.

I do love Ellis’s art — she has done illustrations for Lemony Snicket and Florence Parry Heide and (one of my favorites) Trenton Lee Stewart (“The Mysterious Benedict Society”). She, Meloy and their kid, who is, I’m sure, adorable, as kids usually are, live in Portland, Ore. They are referred to as “hipsters.” (Ellis-Meloy, that is.) Their young adult novel has been getting rave reviews and lots o’ press and wow, what a book, etc. Babies, all I could think about was “Portlandia,” and a ways into the book, I became convinced that Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen, who I know, I know, a lot of you find as adorable as the Ellis-Meloy kid is, no doubt… I started thinking that they wrote the book, even though of course they didn’t, it’s Mr. Meloy and Ms. Ellis’s book and chicken people, no, crows, crow people and St. Johns in North Portland oh-my-gawd it’s so hip I could die, and gah…

I’m telling you. Hell hath no fury like a native-born and -grown Portland girl who can’t live there anymore cuz it’s not her people anymore and…

Where was I? Oh, yeah. “What right do you have to even review books? Who are you, anyway, Little Miss Astor Butt?” That’s what my granny would say. Lotta nerve, you, thinking you’re a writer and book reviewer. I. Love. Books. I have a B.A. in English, I write and edit, my kids and husband are all big readers, I come from a family of big readers on both sides, mom’s and dad’s, and… right. I’m a librarian, too, in my free time. You know what a book needs to do? Move me. And these last two just didn’t, fancy words, gushing accolades, pretty covers, what have you. So gimme Tori Spelling. She’s funny, she’s real, and she’s not trying to impress me. She’s self-deprecating as hell. She does something kooky, things don’t turn out well, and she says, Surprise, surprise…

You can keep your hip references and wordy-wordiness, alright? Please, for the love of Mike, don’t be pretentious.

(PS — I purchased “Wildwood” for my kids. They do like Portlandia, but refuse to read this book that I plunked down $17.99 for. The other two I checked out from the library. No disclaimer needed. Although I did get hungry for apple pie, reading “The Marriage Plot.” Two of the characters are discussing when pie used to arrive with a slice of cheddar on top, yeah, I remember that, one of the characters says, followed by no, actually I don’t. So I put the books aside and baked a pie. It was delicious. So there’s my disclaimer.)

all for now,

wm

I’m on vacation this week and next. Here is a column that originally ran Dec. 3, 2007.

enjoy! and happy 2012.

wm

I published the BEST round-up last year, or the year before, who knows. All of these holidays run together. It was our favorite Christmas books, and it was a thing of beauty.

Then I hit delete on what I thought was a DRAFT and no, it was not a DRAFT, it was the published version. And poof! No more round-up.

I’ll try again…

Hershey Kisses,

WM

The Best Christmas Books Ever:

Grateful on Tuesday for things people send me in the mail.

This week I’ll be reviewing another batch of books from Kids Can Press (ages 4-7 looks like the target audience for these three titles), and reviewing a batch of cookies, too. Yes, it’s a rough life here at Wacky House, what with all the reading materials, cookies and writing. Plus, I get to do all this in my pajamas and take a nap whenever I want. #mydreamjobthankyou.

First of all: I like this publishing house. They have some great titles. (I knew this already, but they sent me an impressive catalog along with my stack of books and man. Good selection.) I want to get a copy of “Ankylosaur Attack,” by Daniel Loxton, with Jim W.W. Smith, and perhaps “Biomimicry,” by Dora Lee and Margot Thompson. (Cool things from the natural world and the human inventions that have been inspired by them.) And you know I’m crazy about anything by Melanie Watt (the Chester books, Scaredy Squirrel, etc.).

“My Name is Elizabeth!” by Annika Dunklee and Matthew Forsythe, is a sweet book about a little girl with a big personality. Elizabeth! There is a queen named after her, even. She is not Betsy. Not Liz. Not Lizzy. Not Beth. Got it? Is anyone gonna listen? The art is reminiscent of some of my favorite kids’ books from the ’60s. (Forsythe did the illustrations with pen and ink, gouache and digitally.) Fun — his work looks vintage and brand-new at the same time. The story is engaging and I loved how it clipped right along.

I’m keen on science books for kids, especially for younger kids. They crave science and often don’t get enough opportunities to do experiments at school. Adrienne Mason and Claudia Davila’s “Motion, Magnets and More” (subtitled “The Big Book of Primary Physical Science”) is a compilation of four books: “Move It!,” “Touch It!,” “Build It!” and “Change It!” Lots and lots of info on materials, mass, structures, solids/liquids/gases, and… what science book would be complete without experiments and projects. Kids can learn to make their own ice cream, paint with salt, have races with Ping Pong balls and lots more. This book will be fun for kids, parents and teachers alike.

Scot Ritchie dedicated “Look at That Building! A First Book of Structures” to his dad, “Ross Ritchie, one of Canada’s great architects.” Aww. I mean, c’mon now. Awwww… So right away that tells you two things: 1) This guy loves his dad and 2) He’s going to look at architecture through the eyes of a child. Sally, Yulee, Martin, Pedro and Nick have a project in mind: a doghouse for Sally’s dog, Max. Along the way they learn about foundations and floors, walls, beams and frames, shapes and columns and even green roofs. Instructions are included for making a “Mini Doghouse” out of craft sticks, construction paper, glue, tape and marshmallows. That brings me to treats.

BzzAgent sent us a delightful package this week. Cookies! Two boxes of them. The DVD of Harry Potter 7, Part 2, that we pre-ordered showed up today, too (under separate cover, of course). Really, this was a banner day over here. Here is our take on the cookies:
1) “Very tasty with my coffee au lait.” — me
2) “Good. Like Chips Ahoy, but not as crunchy.” — Steve
3) “They were good. Yummy!” — Wacky Girl
4) “They were so good, but kind of dry. I need more!” — Wacky Boy

So there you have it, folks.

(PS — Please see my disclaimer.)

“Beloved” (Toni Morrison) — I have tried, and failed, to read “Beloved” at least a half dozen times since it was released in 1987. “Song of Solomon” had a profound influence on my life when I read it for the first time, at age 18. “The Bluest Eye” is astounding, as well. But “Beloved” is the one that made everyone sit up and take notice of Morrison. All I could think was, About time. This time I won’t let it elude me.

“A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster” (Rebecca Solnit) — I think I picked up this copy at church one Sunday. (We have a great bookstore — it’s one of the many reasons I feel at home at my church.) I’m reading it slowly; it’s tough going. But Solnit is a gifted reporter, and has a good ear for dialogue. I also appreciate the way she presents/interprets her stats/facts and weaves in history.

“Blue Nights” (Joan Didion) — Just finished this one. So painful to read, but I loved “The Year of Magical Thinking.” Loved this one, too. It’s written like a love poem to her late daughter, Quintana Roo Dunne Michael. I have always been devoted to Didion, but after these two books, she has my fierce and appreciative loyalty like never before. I hope she can find peace. She deserves that.

“How to Be an American Housewife” (Margaret Dilloway) — Wow. Great read. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. I kind of love it when that happens, don’t you? It’s the story of the struggles and challenges facing a Japanese woman who marries an American following World War II. It’s well-written, and the heroine grabs you by the collar and keeps you next to her, right from the first page. Highly recommended.

We like cats. We like every kind of cat. We’d like to hug ’em all but you can’t hug every cat…

Seymour Simon is a genius. Is Seymour Simon real, or some kind of magical factory where they crank out excellent books that kids leaf through over and over and over and over?

Will ponder this later. His book “Cats” is no exception.

So. The kids are supposed to write this review for me (see: lazy mother; lazy writer; lazy blogger; see, also: cleaning house (in middle of); cats (always a challenge) and summer furniture (needs to be put away, not getting drenched on deck).

Maira Kalman writes the Pete books. I love the tiny details in her books, the little gimme’s. I would like to own everything she has ever illustrated/written. That is my dream in life. That, and peace. Tomorrow night, the Portland Public Schools School Board will vote again on the Starbase contract, here in Portland, Oregon, U.S.A. Everybody seems so nice here, but really we’re a bunch of rebellious revolutionaries who started the bottle bill and like to drink Mason jars full of beer.

And because I am all about my lack of commenters but my amazing Google juice: Portland Public Schools, Portland Public Schools, corrupt behavior part 912. Portland Public Schools Re-Districting is also on agenda. This should be a lively meeting, with all of us peaceniks and all of the people who shout, We paid big money for a house in a good neighborhood, so we would have a good school, and we don’t want to talk about this and you guys are just mean! Mean meanies.

Remember Starbase? Item #47 on the agenda or something. Uh, yeah. Will Occupy Portland turn out for this peace event? I hope so. Hello, Occupy, whassup?!?!

Wednesday night is Condi Rice protest outside the Convention Center. Damn commies again! (is there anyway to make that highlight in red? Portland Commies, Portland Commies, Portland Commies.) And… Thursday, Sandra Steingraber is here.

(edited Monday afternoon to say: just got a call that Steingraber had to cancel due to family situation. Hope everyone is okay. She will be here sometime in 2012, they’re working on re-skedding.)

Big, big week in Little Beirut. I plan to attend all three both events. I will be the one all in black, cuz I’m mourning for the next month. I’m a little peace activist over here, and from now on everything I do is to honor the memory of Frank Morgan.

(“There’s that little communist librarian,” is how he would often greet me. “All power to the people!“ Universe, YOU TOOK THE WRONG ONE.)

Wait! The kids are here.

Wacky Girl: Starting with “Caring for Your Cat,” This book is adorable. We didn’t really read the books.

Me: Losers!

Wacky Girl: I’m not a loser, I’m a Laser.

Me: Well, I did read them. They were good. Son, do you have anything to add?

Wacky Boy, v. cheerful: Nope! Cuz we didn’t read them!

Me: We’re done.

Wacky Mommy, out.

I just started reading Steingraber; she’s a great writer. Don’t know how it is that I haven’t found her before now. Thanks, Anne, for the recommendation. She’ll be speaking in Portland next month. Looking forward to her visit.

— wm

Oh, yeah, I’m tagging this one six ways ’til Sunday. Because when it comes to food? There’s a war on in this world. (This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own, by the by.)

I just finished reading Amy Kalafa’s book, “Lunch Wars” (Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin, 2011, 370 pages, $17.95). Kalafa is producer/director of “Two Angry Moms,” a documentary about kids and school lunches. Kalafa is also a holistic health and nutrition counselor and a Lyme disease consultant.

I like the way she set up the book. It’s a handbook and how-to guide, thus the book’s subtitle: “How to Start a School Food Revolution and Win the Battle for Our Children’s Health.” She wrote the book in response to the questions she was asked as follow-up to the documentary, which was a joint effort with Susan P. Rubin, mom and activist, as well as director of A Better Way Holistic Health, a private health counseling practice in New York. Kalafa lays out the numbers, the descriptions, the basic facts, the stats and everything else you need to know to be convinced that our kids are having health problems in this nation, and that some of that stems to their diet. (If you weren’t convinced of that already.)

She also addresses food and poverty, health problems and lack of exercise, PTA wars, school gardens, and pretty much everything under the sun. She’s good, and I found this book to be useful and well-written. She casts a wide net, but she also gets really specific about the issues. She brings up pretty much everyone involved in food politics — from Jamie Oliver to Martha Stewart to Eric Schlosser to Michael Pollan. (Yes, Martha is a political person. She might not be out lobbying, but every time she discusses gardening and talks about organic food, yes, that’s political.) Kalafa sprinkles profiles with other food activists and notables throughout the book — it was a nice touch and makes the book even more credible than it already was.

What I can’t get around is this: You can slap down an Uncrustables sandwich on the counter, wet, soggy, stale and grim, in its crinkly plastic wrapping. Next to it, how about a fresh loaf of whole wheat bread, a jar of peanut butter and the jam jar? You can make a sandwich — a lovely, fresh sandwich, perhaps even one that includes organic peanut butter, jam and bread — and you can ask your guest, “Which looks better?”

The just-made one, of course.

“This is crap” (pointing to the Uncrustables); “This is not crap” (pointing to the fresh sandwich). “Do we really want the kids eating crap?” No, of course not. But you know who’s in bed with the school districts and their money? Smucker’s (Uncrustables), Tyson (crappy chicken pieces). the dairy industry. Then everyone shrugs.

Those of us who have been fighting this battle for years are feeling, right now, empowered and helpless at the same time.

School food = big money for companies. Oh, the dairy industry? Why am I going after them? Because of the chocolate and strawberry milk, that’s why. Rot those teeth, kids, we’re not paying the bills. Whoops! Your parents lost their job(s) and dental insurance? No dentist for you, baby. Maybe if you work rilly rilly hard, and are smart like Tyson and Smucker’s, you can afford insurance! Maybe you should start saving for dentures, though, just in case.

My posts are always too long, my apologies, but here are some fast thoughts:

1) Why can’t kids get water during lunch? (I mean pitchers and cups on the table, not a shared drinking fountain across the room, that, by the way, is broken)
2) Is it that much trouble to offer more vegetarian food? It’s cheaper, and healthier…
3) Why not let the kids get seconds instead of tossing the leftovers in the dumpster?
4) When I see someone using a dirty rag to wipe down a table, then wiping the floor with it, then wiping another table, it makes me want to hurt that person. Gah.
5) We have enough food in this world to go around. So why are so many people going hungry?
6) I still hate war. Food, not bombs. Books, not bombs. Love, not killing…
7) When my daughter was a newborn, the first thing another mom said to me was, Once she’s in school, you won’t want her to eat school lunch. (My thought, “What am I getting into here?”)
8) Growing up, the schools I attended were considered middle-range for poverty, probably. Lots of families with no money, lots of kids eating free or reduced lunch. We had the best cafeteria ladies ever, and everything was homemade and delicious. The parents used to eat with us all the time cuz the food was so good. So when I would read in books about the “horrible” school lunches, Tuna Surprise or Mystery Meat or whatever, it always baffled me.

Why aren’t more people making calls about this? Sending e-mails? Having lunch with their kids, if possible? (Brown bagging, obviously.) Telling the school districts and the USDA that the food lunch program, as it exists now, is unacceptable, especially for kids who are in poverty? For many kids, school breakfasts and lunches comprise most of what they subside on. If you are what you eat, then they are a sausage biscuit, chased with chicken nuggets, tater tots, and as much ketchup, ranch dressing and chocolate milk as they can wolf down and guzzle. There are also a whole lot of kids in the world who can’t digest milk, are allergic to peanuts and/or tree nuts, who are vegetarian, or celiac, who just plain don’t like milk and would prefer water, who don’t need the sugar from juice… on and on.

They are not being served.

It doesn’t take much to offer beans and brown rice instead of a peanut butter sandwich (I’m thinking of kids with allergies). And beans and rice instead of chicken nuggets? Always a good idea. The costs are lower, too. In the cafeterias, they’re giving our kids meat that is not even acceptable animal feed, the grade and quality are that abysmal. I could just throw something right now. How about a box of stale, nasty, frozen pizzas?

I’m remembering an evening many years ago. A friend had dropped by, and brought a friend with her. I didn’t know this person. She started interrogating me about my baby’s diet, Well, we’re vegetarians. If she wants to eat meat when she’s older, she can, but this is how we cook (beans and rice, whole grains, greens, vegetables and fruit. She didn’t like cow’s milk, once we were done nursing — at age 2 — so she drank soy milk, fortified with calcium and iron).

This woman, who was in my space, in my kitchen, started screaming at me that I had to give my daughter meat (we tried, actually, on a number of occasions — neither of my kids has ever cared for meat. But the woman never heard this, because she just kept screaming at me). “You could give her a hot dog! You could give her a hamburger!”

Oh, my Lord. It was awful. I had to stop her, so she would leave. My friend? She just stood there, silent.

I was a new mom — I used to second-guess myself constantly. So I finally came up with, “Why is it OK to take a kid to Jack in the Box, expose them to e coli and they can die from it, but there’s something wrong with what I’m doing?”

She left.

All these years later, it still pisses me off.

Ah, the Lunch Wars and the Food Wars. I’ll keep fighting until you lose.

— wm

Hello to my friends at BzzAgent and VocalPoint, thanks for the goodies!

Here’s a little story about when I used to clerk for a newspaper. (It was this one. Yeah, it was weird, thanks for asking.) We used to get so much swag, you would not even have believed it.

Also, performers! They’d send by bagpipers to woo us out to the Highland Scottish Games, and a mariachi band would stop by every May for Cinco de Mayo. Kooky in the lobby!

One time they sent us about a dozen Cabbage Patch dolls. That was creepy, but the manufacturer was real excited because they were hoping Cabbage Patch dolls (and the dance! maybe the dance, too!) would become “hep” again.

Uh, yeah.

So one day, around Cabbage Patch Redux Time, I was cursing my existence and tearing into a pile of mail that was about as tall as I am (that means: tall). Wasn’t even happy about that, but it kept me busy and off the crack cocaine. I got fed up and said, There had better be a chocolate bar in here for me somewhere.

Har!

I tore open two more press kits (I remember it like it was yesterday, it was such cosmic timing) and the very next one I opened had (that’s right) not one, but two candy bars inside! Haha! Seriously, this is a true story. It was from Tavern on the Green, in Manhattan. Tavern on the Green used to be cool any time of year, but was especially pretty and festive during the holiday season. So I think they were sending the chocolate to try to lure me to NYC for the holidays, who knows.

Another time a belly dancer brought by an enormous block of chocolate, maybe 5 pounds of chocolate or so, but that’s a tale for another day.

Now, however, Tavern on the Green appears to have been taken over by… food trucks? Where the hell do they think they are, podunk Portland, Oregon?

My 9-year-old says to that, People are stupid. And I must say, I concur. I never go to New York anymore, cuz I don’t fly. Tell me, those of you who would know… is this true? Say it ain’t so, Joe. Please?

My point is, we used to get so much free stuff at The O. Meanie that I was (am), I used to gather as much of it as I could, after the reviews ran (or didn’t). Then I would either:

1) take it home
2) sell it at Powell’s books (grocery money)
3) give it to the shelter for women and children (domestic violence)

(That 3rd one is the one reporters and editors considered “mean.”) Although you know I ate those candy bars and didn’t share, I didn’t actually take much home. Not because I’m better than you or anything — I was a Lowly Clerk and didn’t score much stuff. Reporters and editors? Yeah. They scored, baby. They ferreted away as much as they could. One of the snootier ones once told me not to send any more goodies to the women & children’s shelter.

“You know how much free stuff they’ve got over there? They’re loaded!” (my response: “R u yankin’ my chain?”) Seriously. I used to call our courier service and have them deliver the boxes for me. Ha. Take that, you over-privileged victims of domestic violence and drug abuse!

Wait. Where was I going with this? Oh, yes. Swag. Here is my disclaimer, plz give it a read, thank you.

I think it is ridiculous that newspapers and news channels can get all kinds of goodies from every-damn-body, and be in bed with whoever, whenever, and do all kinds of product endorsements without owning up to, Oh yeah, the belly dancer stopped by…

That sentence is too long I’ll start over. This whole dang post is too long. for that matter, but this has been bugging me for awhile. Meanwhile, for us lowly bloggers — no one’s rolling in the cash, let’s just say that. Not unless they get a TV deal, yeah, I’m looking at you, sexy Ree ;) (as if I could resent anything the Pioneer Woman does, I love that gal.) So why do I feel like I’m selling my soul, because I run ads? Thanks, BlogHer. Kisses. I am going to continue to hold myself to much, much higher standards than those of USA Today and Fox News. Please make a note of it.

Most of the products/books/restaurants/toys and other products that I review, I pay for out of my own pocket. This week: bonanza. The books, CDS and DVDs the kids and I ordered showed up all at once. A publishing house sent me a load of little kids’ books (which I will pass along to my girlfriends’ who have littles). And BzzAgent? Oh, BzzAgent. Today, my kid had not the best day at school. Why? It was picture day, that’s why. And someone else’s mom tried to comb his hair and hello? Have you met me, Other Mom? I don’t even let my own mom comb my hair, back off, honk honk.

He probably thought it was like “Coraline” and she was going to sew buttons onto his eyes next.

But when he got home, it wasn’t just books galore, oh no. We got a brand-new Tonka XT Richochet Tricksters R/C “remote control stunt vehicle.” That one? It’s staying right here. He likes it, and invited his buddies over tomorrow so they can all test-drive it together.

My favorite feature so far: You can run it around all over the house and it doesn’t wreck the furniture. It flips and isn’t super-loud. A mom’s dream come true. Thank you, Tonka, and thank you, BzzAgent for sending it. (Free, so we could try it out.) (It’s a hit.)

Yes, we’ll be posting reviews all week, stay tuned.

(Maybe they’ll send Cabbage Patch dolls next week?)

— wm

You’ve heard of a reading sprint? I don’t see that I’ve ever written about it here. My daughter invented it, and has perfected it. You make a stack of anywhere from 3-7 books, read a chapter or two from each, and rotate, rotate. Pretty soon you’ve read a stack of (1-2-3-4-5-6 or 7) books! It’s especially perfect for those of us who are (or are just feeling) a little ADD. Also good for people who are voracious readers (like my girl) and for kids who are struggling readers. When I’m helping kids learn to read, we pick out anywhere from 2-5 books. Perhaps a short chapter book; something non-fiction — anything about animals is generally a hit; a picture book — with or without words; a harder book; maybe a dictionary. It makes you feel Smart and Important having a big stack of books next to you.

Next thing you know, reading isn’t so scary.

One of my former students was really into the dictionary — I spent most of the school year procuring and distributing dictionaries and thesauri. By the end of the year, every kid who wanted one had one. Epic success. He was one of the kids who had grabbed a spare dictionary early on. I want to learn every word in here, he told me. I told him, Great, start with A.

So he did.

End of the year, we were tallying up success stories, and he raised his hand.

“I read that whole dictionary you gave me!”

“Fantastic! How many pages?” (I knew that he would know.)

“752!” (It was a dictionary for middle grade students — he was in second grade, if I’m remembering correctly? Wait… I may be getting him confused with his older brother, who was in fifth grade. They were both really motivated kids. And their little sister? Following along in her brothers’ footsteps.)

Spectacular. Moments like that make you know you’re in the right line of work.

Speaking of… yeah. I’ve been home for about six months now, and every six months I need to re-invent myself. Again. So I’m interviewing again for library jobs. (i miss the kids.) Fingers crossed. it-is-what-it-is.

That string of books pictured above? That’s everything I’m reading right now.

* Celebrity Detox I just finished — really moving work by Ms. O’Donnell. Brave woman, writing it, and kudos for putting it out there the way she does. Not everyone in this world is that brave.

* Me & Anna Karenina. I started reading this book in college. Was almost to the end, my then-boyfriend and I were spending winter break with his parents at their stupid Rustic Cabin in Woods, and his mom sez, Oh, in the end when, y’know…!!! blah blah. (I realize that everyone and his great-aunt Smoochy knows the ending to Anna Karenina, but believe it or not, until that moment in Stupid Rustic Cabin with people who thank God did not become my in-laws, I didn’t.) My response: “Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!” Her response, all sweetness and big cow eyes: “Didn’t you watch the PBS mini-series?” Me: “No, I generally read the book first.”

Since that time, lo these 20-plus years ago, I have been trying to finish Anna Karenina. This translation (can’t find the image, but it was done by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky) is stellar. The footnotes are great, the translation is quite good. Not that I’ve read it in the original Russian (ha) but you can tell that they retain the flavor and style of the original work. How? How can I tell this? I have no idea. But it’s good, and I’m enjoying it. And trying to forgive the witch who (nearly) ruined the book for me.

* Anne Lamott… Anne Lamott… I have been mean to her in the past, but “Grace (Eventually) Thoughts on Faith” has changed my mind about her. It’s funny and sharp and she really opens up and doesn’t mess around. I appreciate that.

* Walter Deans Myers’s bio, “Bad Boy” is good. Everything the man does is good, so I think it’s sweet he calls his memoir “Bad Boy.” Incredible man — go give him a read if you haven’t already. My students love him, too.

* Another one they love is Sharon Draper (Sharon Draper for the girls, Walter Dean Myers for the guys), and after starting “Romiette & Julio” I can see why. I never had the chance to borrow any of her books from my old libraries, because they were always checked out! So props to her. Oh, I did read “Fire from the Rock” when it came out and loved it. The girls also love Sharon Flake, so check her out, too.

* “The Graveyard Book” is freaking me out. This one is not for the little-littles. Sixth grade and older, I would say. Neil Gaiman (“Coraline”) has a dark and twisted gift.

* Jordan Sonnenblick is another new-to-me author. So far, so good on “Zen and the Art of Faking It.”

Sad thing for my kids, having a book-junkie mother. Because whatever I read has got to be uncool. And all of these books are pretty cool. I’m ready to start covering everything in brown kraft paper.

In other news: It’s finally summer in Oregon, woot. Got to 95 yesterday. This morning Steve and I woke up early, then walked in the nature preserve by our house and picked blackberries. We saw a covey of quail at the pond up the street. It was so cool. I baked a berry crisp and pinned out the laundry; he watered the garden and I watered the front yard. It will be thirteen years of marriage for us in a couple of weeks. It’s good. It’s a good life.

I’m going to remember this day, the simplicity of it, the happiness of it, forever.

Love you, Steve.

xo

me

Dear You,

Sometimes, I get so personally attached to a writer, and/or the person’s book, that I just want to hug ’em and not let go and not share them with anyone. Mine, mine, mine. Do you ever get like that? Is it just me?

Anyway, that’s how I feel about Suzanne Beecher and her delightful new memoir/cookbook, “Muffins & Mayhem: Recipes for a Happy (if Disorderly) Life.” Mine, mine, mine. I bought a copy for my Kindle, read it on the iPad just now, and have a hard copy arriving in the mail in a few days.

Mine, mine, mine. But how can I hog her all to myself? I cannot. And so I will share this much with you:

Her book is funny, rich, inspired. Suzanne has been through a lot, and every time she ends up with lemons she just makes a pitcher of lemonade, then sells it by the glass. Her recipes are so yummy… I knew some of them from her blog, and have made several of them over the years (Crockpot Stuffing, Dolly Madison Muffins, Skunk Beans). I appreciate a girl who can cook and write, probably more than your average fan. Who knows why? Oh, wait…

I have written about her so many times here on The Blog (go search for “Suzanne” or “DearReader”), I’m like her one-woman fan club. But not. I have to share her with the nearly half a million readers who follow her book clubs. Also one time she sent me chocolate chip cookies, when I was working at Jefferson High School in beautiful Portland, Ore. I shared them with the students and some of the other teachers and staff. We took pictures of our Cooky Feast and mailed them to Suzanne. She is crazy for pictures. And her grandkids. And her bubble machine. And her pink flamingos. Also she is nuts about her husband. I’m just sayin’ — what a gal.

She is such a good writer, my Internet friend Suzanne. Inspirational and funny, poignant and assertive, business-savvy and artistic, compassionate and not-at-all-perfect. But she’s perfect to me. And if she wasn’t all the way in Florida, and I wasn’t all the way out here in Oregon, I’d go give her a big hug right now.

Only she would probably say, Honey, it’s 11:17 p.m. on a Monday night, shouldn’t you be in bed? Heehee.

Go buy her book, and buy a couple of extra copies to give as gifts. Knowing Suzanne, she will send you a free autographed bookplate and a bookmark.

Bon appetit!

Wacky Mommy

ps — private note to my son, who is very much a 9-year-old: Darling. When I tell you, Go to bed, please go to bed. Do not go stick Silly Putty in your sister’s hair, instead. That is just naughty. We had no choice but to cut it out, and now her hair is all… hunky in that spot. It’s in hunks now. Hunks of hair. Love you so much, Mommy