A few good gems

I'm SO happy it is October. There is a promised cold front due in on Sunday where we are expecting a high of 78 and a low of 51, and I'm holding The Weather Channel's feet to the fire. I'd better get my 51 or heads are going to roll!!  While I'm watching the weather with pumpkin-flavored-baited-breath, here's a few good gems to peruse:

- I saw this quote (pictured above) over on the Liz Marie Blog. I can't find the original source, but I'm thinking about framing this quote and giving it to all of my loved ones for Christmas. I'm not even kidding. It's SO true. Right?

-  My friend Andrea sent me a link to The Guardian's article on "Ten Tips to Help Our Daughters Change the World." These 'tips' are about teaching and encouraging skills necessary for girls to enter the political scene, and particularly about how they can make a difference from where they are -- drawing upon their own personal interests, situations, and skill sets. Rowena Davis, a 28 year old MP candidate, explains, "Young women are no longer prepared to suppress their personalities or compromise their values in order to take part in political life. 'There is a sense of compassion, an ability to value relationships, family, nurturing, caring, but mixing that with aspiration, thriving and leadership.'"

-The New York Times published a fascinating article, "Harvard Business School Case Study: Gender Equity," detailing a gender experiment (focusing on the class of 2013) in which curriculum, grading, and social practices were purposely studied and altered to promote female success. The results are an interesting mix of sociological observations and unintended consequences. What I don't think the experiment was really able to tackle is the long-standing denigration of ambitious women -- meaning women felt they needed to "tone down" aggressive practices in class in order to be socially acceptable. The author writes, "Judging from comments from male friends about other women ('She’s kind of hot, but she’s so assertive') [one of the students], Ms. Navab, feared that seeming too ambitious could hurt what she half-jokingly called her 'social cap,' referring to capitalization." Now. I'm no Harvard MBA. But when I was working on my Master's Thesis (and was arguing an important point), one of the male members of my committee responded to my passionate argument with, "Well, isn't she a fiesty little thing?" Ahem. 

- While doing some academic work this week, I read a critical article that talked about the idea of home in E. M. Forster's novel, Howards End. I haven't read Howard's End (1910) in a bazillion years, so I felt the need to reacquaint myself. I've only read the first 50 pages or so, but I'm already delighted. I love this line about Meg: "Away she hurried, not beautiful, not supremely brilliant, but filled with something that took the place of both qualities--something best described as a profound vivacity, a continual and sincere response to all that she encountered in her path through life." Come on. Read it with me.

- If you are feeling especially bookish, then I've got the perfect tool for you. Many years ago I purchased a book weight (much like this one). I use it practically everyday -- sometimes to hold a book open while I'm taking notes, sometimes to hold my book open when I'm eating a BIG bowl of ice cream (don't tell!) and, really, countless other strange situations I seem to find myself in where I JUST NEED MY BOOK TO STAY OPEN.

-I'm thinking about making this salad this week.  And I REALLY want to make this chalkboard runner for my long kitchen table. And just maybe, if I'm feeling ambitious (but not in a socially crippling way), I'll make some Halloween silhouettes for above my fireplace.

Or, maybe I'll just curl up with Howards End.  

Happy Fall everyone! 

This water lives in Mombasa

My brother Matt gave me this vintage edition of Out of Africa for Christmas one year. I love everything about it: the graphic cover, the rough edges of the uneven paper, the library smell. The inside page says it's a Modern Library edition from 1952; there's even an old, folded up portrait of Isak Dinesen from a 1950s magazine tucked in the back pages. 

I came home from my hike/walk today and got the book out, searching for a line that had been running through my mind all morning. Scanning through, I saw that I had marked a different passage about an orphaned pet antelope they had on the farm.  It could easily be speaking to me, or you, or one of our children:

"Oh, Lulu," I thought, "I know that you are marvellously strong and that you can leap higher than your own height. You are furious with us now, you wish that we were all dead, and indeed we should be so if you could be bothered to kill us [note: well, maybe not that killing part...].  But the trouble is not, as you think now, that we have put up obstacles too high for you to jump, and how could we possibly do that, you great leaper?  It is that we have put up no obstacles at all.  The great strength is in you, Lulu, and the obstacles are within you as well, and the thing is, that the fullness of time has not yet come." (p. 72)

A great thought--but it wasn't the one on repeat in my brain. No, that line (it turns out) is in the movie version. In this scene, Karen Blixen is trying to establish the farm in the wild hills of Africa, to grow coffee and dam up the river to suit her needs.  Her head servant Farah shakes his head and warns Karen "this water lives in Mombasa, Msahib." (Later when the water breaks its banks, she concedes the point: "Let it go, let it go. This water lives in Mombasa anyway.")

Oh, I can relate to both of these dueling passages.  Yes, there are some things that, like Lulu the antelope, we have the strength and wherewithal to leap over and conquer. Go for it, great leapers!  

And yet, I think there also some things--in our kids, in our family life, in ourselves--that really can't be forced by our wills to be something else, not for long. Some things live in Mombasa, returning to their own courses despite attempts to change and control. 

So why was I thinking of this line today on my hike? It's that I keep trying to change, prod, mold, and whittle this body into something that, I've come to realize, it just doesn't seem to want to be.  Yes, I will be healthy, I will be strong, I will be happy with myself & keep working hard for the joy of it.  But my curves, my shape? They just might live in Mombasa, Msahib. 

(See also: some of my children and the state of their bedrooms. Mombasa.)

Mothers, daughters, and the passing of batons

Sisters in the kitchen, William Gedney, 1980 | via Duke University Collection,

This excerpt from Alice McDermott's new novel Someone speaks for itself (but that won't stop me from giving it a little postscript here of my own down below):

. . . 

"It was time," my mother said, that I learned a few things about cooking.

I stood in the kitchen doorway, all reluctance. Why? I wanted to ask.

[Later in the book, the main character Marie will explain to her friends out on the stoop: "Well, I don't want to learn," I said. "Once you learn to do it, you'll be expected to do it," and was amazed at the way my own words clarified for me what had been, until then, only a vague impulse to refuse.]

[...]The sound of her voice was more familiar to me then than my own; I knew the end of my mother's patience when I heard it.

"You tell me," I said softly. "You tell me what to do."

Behind me, I heard my mother cross her arms over her rickracked apron.

"There's a recipe in front of you," she said. "And unless I'm very much mistaken you know how to read. Read it."

I lowered my head the way I'd seen horses do, and dogs, when they didn't want to be led. "You tell me," I said again.

I heard her stamp her foot. "I won't." Anger always stirred my mother's brogue, like meat brought up from the bottom of a stew. "I wrote it out for you so you could read it. Now read it."

I didn't turn around. "Just tell me,"  I said.

"A recipe is meant to be read," my mother said.

I dipped my head again. "I'd rather you just tell me."

In the silence that followed, I could hear, faintly, the noise from the street, where I wanted to be: cars passing and children calling. There was also the distant thump of doors closing in the apartments below, various footsteps on the stair. There was the whine of someone's clothesline pulley. The chuckling warble of some pigeons at the window.

"Measure out your flour," my mother said slowly, relenting. I shifted my feet a bit to accommodate my triumph: better than risking a sly smile.

I put my hand on the measuring cup. "How much?" I said.

And now, even without turning around, I knew it was my mother who was smiling. "You'll have to read the recipe to find out," she said. "Won't you?"

It was a wonder, my mother said later, in every retelling of it, that we didn't kill each other on that bright morning. Slowly, through a series of niggling concessions on both our parts--some telling, some reading, some turning away in anger, and some giving in--the ingredients were placed into the bowl and the bread was shaped and lifted into the black frying pan. When my mother brushed past me to mark the cross on its surface, her hands were trembling with anger.

[...] But my mother merely stood beside me with her hands on her hips, studying her stubborn daughter once more, even as that daughter kept her exaggerated, myopic stare on the clock. "I suppose this is how it's going to be," she said softly, more to herself than to me. "You're growing up."  And then, for a moment, she put a gentle hand to my head.

She said, "God help us both," and left the kitchen.

-from Someone by Alice McDermott
You should read it.

---

Those mother-daughter moments of clash and reluctance and wills and so much love and anger colliding at once? God help us both, indeed. I feel like I am there, both daughter and mother, in this moment where McDermott deftly hints at themes of independence, tradition, budging and not budging, and the passing of batons across generations--or the passing attempt, anyway.

As a side note, I lament the things I chose not to learn from my own mom when I was a teen, sure as I was that I would--what?--live a vastly different life, maybe? As a daughter, I remember it not feeling like an outright rejection of my mom's plentiful talents and sacrifices but rather a stubborn struggle to find and claim my own distinct strengths, apart from her. Still, I regret that her accomplished music (she plays the harp! how could I not learn the harp from my own in-house mom harpist?!), kitchen finesse, and many creative skills were just a few of the batons I chose not to pick up from her outstretched hand. Not then.

As a mother myself now I can hardly be surprised as I watch my daughters choose or discard the batons, often independent of my outstretched offerings. My lesson from before is just this: not to take it personally. 

. . . 

- NY Times review of Someone here 
 - Interview with McDermott on the Diane Rehm show

A few good gems

via NationalGeographic

{Note: Picture above is what I imagine Fall to be like. Pictures are all I have. Sniff.} 

Temps are still in the 90s here in the Lone Star State, and yet, I've fallen to the dastardly machinations of a head cold. My throat hurts, my nose is stuffy, and by mid afternoon? I'm toast -- so, so tired. I know. I'm whiney. It's part of what makes me, "ME". 

I just think if I'm going to cough and wheeze I should be wrapped in a warm blanket and scarf, with a steaming cup of hot cocoa. I should NOT be in shorts and a t-shirt, madly turning up the AC. It's not right. I need someone to FIX IT. 

Even in my mucus-laden state, I've managed to spend a considerable amount of time surfing the net. Just for you. I only do it for you. Otherwise, I'd be studiously reading and writing and doing laundry and baking homemade cookies for my children. But nope. Just surfing the net. Like it's my job. 

You'll thank me later. 

Have you seen this "informative rant" about why American health care is so expensive? It's not a partisan thing, so everyone calm down. Basically, it's about supply and demand -- but it's delivered in such an entertaining way! Also, Sterling and I recently paid upwards of $2000 OUT OF POCKET for a brief trip to the ER that required no technology or testing WHATSOEVER. I have to quit writing about this now before my caps lock key is STUCK FOREVER. 

My new favorite contemporary book just might be "Where'd You Go, Bernadette."  Guys, I polished off this novel in about 3.5 hours. I couldn't put it down. I'll have to read it once or twice more to really decided if it's my "favorite," but I can tell you this right now -- so entertaining. And not scholarly and boring. But not super fluffy. It's just about right.

I heard about goldbely.com on the radio this morning (while I was making my second trip to drop off kids at 6:30 this morning). Basically, Goldbely is a service that ships famous eats from around the US. You can get bagels from Zabar's in NYC, Lou Malnati's deep dish pizza from Chicago, and even Blue Bell ice cream from Brenham, Texas. I'm a big fan of food in general. Also, I can't imagine living away from a freezer-full of Blue Bell. But be warned -- four 1/2 gallon containers of Blue Bell runs $129 (shipping included). I currently pay approximately $6 per 1/2 gallon containers, which would put my cost (before shipping) at around $24. But, if you are desperate, THERE YOU GO.

Before I dissertate today, I'm seriously considering making this. 

OR maybe these pumpkin snickerdoodles. 

Also, don't tell Becca, but I'm working on something like this for her birthday. She wanted a bedroom-refresh for her gift. Pictures to come. 

And that's it folks. Happy weekending to you.  

A few good gems

You may have noticed our relaxed posting schedule this week. We're taking it a bit easy during the month of August and posting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. We're each launching a daughter this month and it takes a village plus a lot of shopping time, errands, and hand-wringing to launch a child!  

photo via dimasmelfi

- Saying good riddance to the clean-plate club. Some interesting thoughts from a family nutritionist about ending the ol' sit-there-until-you're-done practice. She emphasizes instead a more healthy approach of helping kids paying attention to more internal cues, like eating until you're full. What do you think? Did you have a clean-plate approach in your family growing up?

- I love the concept of Community Supported Agriculture as a way for consumers to buy seasonal food directly from local farmers. So I did a mental back handspring (the only kind I know how to do) when I read that there now are CSAs for art! For instance, in one program nine selected artists receive a commission to create artwork and then each member's share includes one piece from each artist over the season. Here's a map of existing art CSAs and some resources for starting one in your area.

- I've been a calligraphy/handwriting admirer/novice every since I spent hours reworking my handwriting during the downtime at my gig as a hospital snack bar volunteer when I was 12 (whew! that was a jungle of prepositional phrases!). Recently I've had a hankering to get my pens and ink back out again. This clip was a amazing reminder of the power of disciplined practice and the beauty of the sweep of ink on paper:

- NPR put together a list of the 100 best-ever teen novels based on a poll of 75,000+ listeners. It's an interesting line-up and might give you some ideas if your kids are reaching the end of the bookshelf and looking for some new recommendations. (As always, pre-screen these for your own kids' developmental level and readiness; there are a few picks on there I would hold off on reading until they are older teens.)

-I love a good photo project but I sometimes feel like I've already missed the bus with those cute monthly infant shots or yearly photos on the same chair. This one, fusing a shot of a grandmother and a granddaughter, both at age 20, would be fantastic to try (see below). And this beautiful series of yearly photos of four sisters over 36 years (!) inspired and comforted me because (whew) it's not too late to start it. This one was launched when the four sisters were young adults.

Happy weekending, all! See you back here on Monday.

A few good gems

This was my view on Thursday from a nearly-deserted library at Texas A&M.  I left the kids with lunch money, and no other instructions whatsoever, and headed up to campus for about five hours of quiet and reading. It was lovely. I wish I could do it every day, but the 70 mile commute (one way) eats up too much time. I'm working again today and thinking about the weekend!

But that's enough about me. Here's some cool stuff I found when I should have been doing laundry or making dinner or writing something: 

Most people either love or hate Martha Stewart. I'm a Martha-lover.  It's not that I can't acknowledge her well-publicized downfalls; it's more that I don't think you can expect success on the Martha-level without changing up the game in some fashion. And she's a game-changer baby. Check out NYMag's "Martha Stewart's Best Lesson: Don't Give a Damn": "Martha’s attitude provides a refreshingly clear path to success: work hard, know your value, and have enough confidence in your work and value to keep pressing forward whether or not people seem to like you." 

I love this essay, "The Empty-Nest Yard Sale" -- a reflection on a boy's last years at home from the dad's point of view. I felt he totally got me when he compared an (unsuccessful) conversation with his son to an episode of Parenthood. I used to base my parenting on the Walton Family. But now it's the Bravermans. All the way.

This New York Times article, "Don't Make Your Children the Exception to Every Rule," caught my eye because the author's opening story happened to me. Look! I'm exactly like a New York Times author! Basically, this article looks at process versus outcome: "When we look at the research on the childhood precursors of adult well-being – the traits we see in children who go on to become happy adults – we find that the driving factor is childhood conscientiousness, not childhood happiness." --Which gives me complete license to hold my kids' feet to the fire! (I'm referring to a metaphorical fire. Obviously. Ahem.)

Some of you recommended The Light Between Oceans by M. L. Stedman. Wow. Everything was going along just fine, and then I got to the end . . . and I cried like a baby. It's particularly brutal to a mother's heart. But it's good. Read it. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

I made these Pioneer Woman nachos for dinner last night. Two thumbs up. Is it weird that I'm so obsessed with PW? Can anyone get me an invite to her lodge? Anyone? 

Maybe I'm the last person on the Internet to know about this, but have you read Suri's Burn Book? It's kind of hilarious. I may (or may not) have read through the last 100 posts in one sitting.

That's it. Peace out. 

Books for momma

Do any of you fellow Texans remember signing up for the Summer Reading Program? Marching out of the Texas sunshine and into the cool and quiet of the library in early June was always a highlight of the summer for me. The librarian handed out brochures printed with Summer Reading Program 'instructions' and blank lines (for all of the book titles you would read) and a VERY HYPED UP PROMISE FOR A DELUXE PARTY if you read the required number of books. Man, I loved that program. I read my twelve books lickety-split, not because I was lured by the very DELUXE PARTY, but because I loved to read. 

You know what else? Sometimes the lack of schedule during the summer kicks me a little off kilter, and sitting down with a good book shores me up. It resets my brain. For some reason, reading reminds me that I'm okay and you're okay and we are all going to be OKAY. 

But, what to read? What follows are a few suggestions for you summer mommas (and dads, except it's heavy on the chick-type lit). Admittedly, the list leans a bit toward Neo-Victorian fiction (because that is the focus of my dissertation), but I only included those titles that I thought were fantastic reads, and I excluded all of the boring, academic-type stuff. (Because, incidentally, those don't always make me feel like we are all OKAY.) 

Sarah's Summer Reading Program (DELUXE PARTY to follow): 

1. Peace Like a River by Leif Enger. I LOVE this book. When I was at Baylor, I heard the author speak and his last name is pronounced with a long A sound (not like leaf), so there ya go. This book is a go-to gift -- it's insightful, has a great plot, and is squeaky clean.
2. The Robber Brideby Margaret Atwood. Seriously, I love anything by Margaret Atwood, but this is probably my best recommendation for summer reading. It's  funny, tragic, exceptionally well written, and follows the lives and friendship of three grown women. Plus, Margaret Atwood is my pretend BFF.
3. Brick Laneby Monica Ali. Okay, this isn't your typical beach read, but I still love it. It's about a woman from Bangladesh who moves to London for an arranged marriage. This is what contemporary British fiction looks like. The cast of characters is fascinating and endearing. Ali approaches real cultural, gender, and political issues, and it's just a plain interesting read. 
4. The Meaning of Night: A Confession & The Glass of Time by Michael Cox. All hail the neo-Victorian novel (which, most simply put, is a contemporary novel that is set in the Victorian age or pretends to be of the Victorian age). These books (read them in order) are set in nineteenth century England and have all of the makings of a fine Victorian novel: country houses, aristocratic heroes and foils, chases through foggy London, surprise heirs and heiresses. I promise these are absolute page-turners. Last summer I passed them on to Jordan and she devoured them in a matter of days. You will love them. I promise.
5. The Parasol Protectorate series by Gail Carriger.  This is a set of five novels set around a spunky, aristocratic heroine who charges about London with vampires and werewolves and all manner of the supernatural. I know this might sound improbable and too science-fiction-y. That's what I thought upon reading the summary on Amazon. But, by the end, I was loathe for the series to end. I felt I'd lost a good friend. These are definitely on the light side -- take these with you to Hawaii. I'll wait here in Houston. In the heat. With the bugs. 
6. Girl in a Blue Dress by Gaynor Arnold. This is a fictional account of the life of Dorothea Gibson (wife to Charles Dickens). There's love. There's tragedy. There's genius and cruelty. I heard Arnold speak in England last summer and had a few moments to posit my observations to her that the Dickens character had some very Thatcher-esque qualities. She was like, "Yeah, um...I guess I could see that." Then I slinked away. Slunk? No, I definitely slinked.

What about you? Any summer must-reads? Don't hold back. Comments make my day.