Reading | Station Eleven and The Glass Hotel

Station Eleven | Emily St. John Mandel

The Glass Hotel | Emily St. John Mandel

In Station Eleven, a lethal virus has decimated the global population and the world as we know it today has collapsed. Small bands of survivors roam deserted countryside; the story follows an itinerant band of Shakespearean actors and symphonic musicians knows as The Travelling Symphony as they travel  what was once western Michigan, fleeing the wrath of a local cult leader known as the Prophet. 

The Glass House tells the story of a different sort of collapse. After decades of lies and lavish spending, a financial investor's massive Ponzi scheme comes crashing to the ground. The  consequences of the collapse ripple out from his life to his staff, his family, his investors and the effects are catastrophic, particularly for his partner, Vincent, whose life takes a wholly unexpected turn. 

Both stories are deftly woven, skipping back and forth across multiple time lines, following a handful of different protagonists, and using several motifs in common: the mysterious and unseen world of the shipping industry, graphic novels, what it means to make art, young women who meet rich older men and experience a rags-to-riches-to-rags chain of events. Even more intriguing, the author uses several of the same characters in both novels, exploring what might have happened in their lives if circumstances had been different. 

Mandel's work is layered and rich, elegant and not to be hurried through. satisfying but not necessarily sweet. In the end, her stories and characters may be about resilience, as much as anything else, and that ensures their enduring beauty. 

* * * * *

Did I love reading Station Eleven and The Glass Hotel? Yes, absolutely. Here's why:

Emily St. John Mandel sets her stories in beautiful parts of the world - Vancouver Island, New York City, Toronto, and the shores of Lake Michigan, to name a few - that resonate with me. And she deftly uses her settings to enhance the mood of the story, alternating between remote wilderness and world-class cities with great success. 

“I've always had a weakness for places where it seems like time slows down.” - The Glass Hotel

Her plots skip about - using different timelines, shifting locations, and changing from one protagonist to the next - in a way that keeps me on the edge of my seat and draws me deeper into the story. 

She links ideas from one book to the next, apparently because she finds those concepts  - such as the real-life "ghost fleet" of shipping vessels abandoned off the coast of Malaysia - so interesting that they apparently bob about in her brain and insert themselves into her imagination over and over again as she writes. And the happy coincidence is that much of what fascinates her fascinates me too. 

“A memory, but it's a memory so vivid that there's a feeling of time travel, of visiting the actual moment.” - The Glass Hotel

I love Mandel's explorations of "the counter life;" that is, what might happen in a person's life if they made different choices, if circumstances were different. Sometimes these alternate pathways are explored within a single character - a man serving life in prison develops a rich fantasy of himself living free - or by transporting characters from one book to another, where they find a different destiny. And playfully, Mandel experiments with ghosts as another way to explore what might have been. I am here for all of it.  

“I stood looking over my damaged home and tried to forget the sweetness of life on Earth.” - Station Eleven

I'm fascinated by the concept of collapse, and the accompanying shock that one would feel when suddenly finding oneself in a whole new world. Station Eleven features global collapse, as 99.99% of the world's population dies off in a snap; The Glass Hotel tells a story of financial collapse that affects hundreds of investors whose considerable life savings are wiped out overnight. 

“Dr. Eleven: What was it like for you, at the end?
Captain Lonagan: It was exactly like waking up from a dream.” 

- Station Eleven

But on a smaller scale, Mandel experiments with personal collapses, like drug addiction, prison sentences, failed marriages, and death. In doing so, her writings remind me what a miracle it is to wake up every morning and face a world that I know and understand. Her books make me grateful for my life; what a wonderful gift. 

* * * * *

Hey! Wanna read more about the books I've read in 2022? Check these out:

Conversations With Friends

Priestdaddy

Station Eleven and The Glass Hotel

The Vanishing Half

Untamed

The Paper Palace

Three Wishes

Crying In H Mart

Prodigal Summer

The Pull Of The Moon

Unsheltered and The Bean Trees

* * * * *

For a full list of books I've read in the past few years, click here:

2022

2021

2020

Joanna's Caregiving Team

 "I do believe we're all connected. 

I do believe in positive energy. 

I do believe in the power of prayer. 

I do believe in putting good out into the world. 

And I believe in taking care of each other."

-Harvey Fierstein

My mom and me, at the beginning.

As human beings, we all know what it’s like to worry about our parents’ well-being as they age. Particularly unnerving are the concerns that dementia may one day make them unable to care for themselves. And then, we worry one step further, the day may come when even our help is not enough to keep them safe. Who will we turn to, we wonder, when we need help?

For some of us, these concerns become a reality and the day does indeed come when we find ourselves in desperate need of help.

For me, that day came on a rainy October morning at the Detroit airport car rental return. I was about to board a plane flying me back home to Seattle, but from the week we’d just spent together, I knew my mom could not possibly care for herself any longer. Not one more day.

Raindrops beat on the windshield as I fought back tears and struggled to find options. Suddenly I remembered the handful of flyers from dementia care specialists that my mom’s doctor had handed me a few days earlier, still folded and tucked into my purse. I pulled them out, picked up my phone, and called the first name I saw: Joanna LeFleur at Memory Lane Assisted Living. 

And that was the moment when everything changed.

Joanna listened to my fumbled attempts to explain my mother’s desperate need, and then she calmly and confidently moved into action. That very same afternoon, by the time my plane landed in Seattle, my mom was already in Joanna’s competent care.

Dementia, as it so often does, had changed my mother’s temperament. As the disease progressed, her easy-going intelligence and dry wit gave way to bouts of negativity and bad temper. To be honest, most of her friends and family did not understand how to deal with Mom’s changing behavior so they spent less time with her. My mom noticed their absence, and over the years had become understandably hurt and undeniably lonely.

But Joanna’s staff understood dementia. Thanks to the training they received at Memory Lane, they knew how to work past Mom’s symptoms and connect with her true self. They offered my mom endless activities to celebrate everyday life and opportunities to engage with others, and when my mom stubbornly declined them, as she often did, her caregivers graciously changed gears. With Memory Lane's incredibly generous 1:3 staffing ratios, Joanna’s team was able to pivot and spend time talking one-on-one with my mom, as a friend would do. In fact, Joanna’s staff became my mom’s friends; they valued my mom as a human being, and they showed her genuine compassion and care. Mom's rough edges softened as she felt respected and loved. 

As I look back on the dark and difficult years that my mom spent living with dementia, her time with Joanna at Memory Lane, and especially with Joanna’s staff, were bright and shining moments in the darkness. Joanna and her caregiving team provided exactly the help I so desperately needed on that rainy day when I sat in my rental car and cried.

* * * *

I have deep respect and compassion for the beautiful human beings who learn to care for those who struggle with dementia - our parents, our elders. If you live in the Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti area and would like to make a real and meaningful difference in the world today, please consider joining Joanna's caregiving team; you can give her a call, just as I did, at Memory Lane Assisted Living, 734-707-4039.

Just Chillin'

"For millions of Americans, climate change is no longer just a chart or a graph. 

It's the smoke on our tongues from massive wildfires. 

It's the floodwater invading our homes and record-breaking hurricanes and heat waves." 

- Jay Inslee

^ Sirius spent most of the day today just chillin' on this couch. 

With a box fan set to high angled into the room, he was one cool kitty. 

This week, it's our turn here in the Pacific Northwest for an ungodly heatwave, and while 32°C / 90°F temperatures don't necessarily register as crazy hot in many parts of the world, it's a lot hotter than what we soggy forest dwellers are used to.

And our pets.

As we ease into the burning flames of hell, I'm well prepared to minimize our human discomfort - the box fans are humming, window shades are rolled down, and our dinner menus feature light, fresh, and cool meals. My confidence in our ability to ease through the week is high.

Of greater concern to me are my pets. 

What with their full-body fur coats and limited ability to serve themselves a popsicle, my pets benefit from a little extra help to get through these hot days. Here are my top strategies for keeping my pet squad safe and comfy in the heat. 

Stay inside in the heat of the day

Clever creatures, we've already noticed that our pets are switching up their usual habits in the out of doors, and all of them are choosing to spend much more time inside the house during the hot hours of the day. Not only does this give them a break from the searing heat of direct sunlight, it also allows us to keep a better eye out for any signs of heat-related distress. Win/win.

Take them out at night

We're also encouraging our pets to enjoy the great outdoors during the cooler hours of the day. I've shifted Gracie's walk time from late afternoon to early evening - we headed out today around 6:30 p.m.- and at that hour, the temperature had already dropped down to a (slightly) more reasonable level. The kitties are choosing to go outdoors around sundown, which is not their usual jam, and simply lounge by the back door for an hour or two, enjoying evening settling in. 

Keep the water coming. 

Because my cats spend a lot of time outdoors in the summer, and Gracie drinks like a crazed camel, keeping them supplied with fresh water is always on my mind. We've got several big bowls and pots of water here and there around the yard, and of course, there's Gracie's swimming pool. Rather than following my usual habit of freshening up the watering holes every morning, during these scorchers, I check back every couple hours all day long to refill each receptacle with cool water and whenever possible, move it out of the sun and into a shady spot. When I'm feeling particularly doting, I add ice.

Watch for signs of distress.

If the worst should happen, and one of my pets got overheated, the symptoms might range from excessive panting and difficulty breathing to heavy drooling, weakness, and ugh, collapse. Let's hope it never comes to that, but we stay alert to their behavior, and have an emergency plan to drape any distressed pup or kitten with a cool, water-soaked towel. 

* * * * *

This heat wave won't last long. Today was expected to be the worst of it; we have highs in the high 20s/80s for the next five days, we will soon enough be dropping back into our more typical summer weather. Look for my post on how I protect my pets from hypothermia, coming soon. 

On A Summer Evening

"Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them." -Bob Dylan

^ Don't worry, Mom. I only leave them out in the grass like this when the weather is perfectly clear. At the first hint of rain, I tuck them up under the eaves, just like you used to do.

Tonight, I am washing the dinner dishes when I glance out my kitchen window and see them. In an instant, years - decades! - fly away and I find myself in two places at once.

* * * * * 

First of all, I am at my mom's home. My childhood home. On a lake in southeastern Michigan. It's a  summer evening and we are out on the back deck where my mom is serving dinner to my own daughters. 

This is one of the mountaintop moments of my mom's life as a grandma. She absolutely loves feeding my girls and proudly serves them happy, healthy, home-cooked picnic dinners. And despite all the disconnects and crossed wires that complicate my own relationship with my mom, this is one part I get right: I know that my role is to step back and let my mom run the show, deciding who would sit where, serving up their plates, keeping up a running dialog of happy chatter, and in all ways, making the most of every moment of our time at her house. 

On a summer evening like this, I sit in the midst of the happy chaos, munching my own ear of sweet corn, perhaps helping to mop up the occasional spilled glass of lemonade, but otherwise letting my mom orchestrate this moment as I look on from the comfort of one of her favorite green and white striped director's chairs.

* * * * * 

At the same time, I am at my house in Seattle, and my mom has come to visit me. She comes often when the girls are young, and always spend at least a week with us during her fifth-grade teacher summer vacations. I often joke that my mom really comes just to visit the girls and in some ways, that is true. Every waking moment of her days are spent playing with them, weaving her own imaginative ideas into their endless games, chasing them around the backyard, or exploring the gardens with them. 

On a summer evening like this, I stand at my kitchen window with my hands in the soapy suds and watch them in the backyard, dashing here and there around the grassy lawn, with our rock wall in the background and flowers towering overhead. And I marvel at the playful, lighthearted spirit my mom has found as a grandmother. This is my mom at her best. 

* * * * *

Tonight, on a summer evening many years later, my hands swish a dish through the warm water as my eyes settle upon my mom's favorite green and white striped director's chairs, now nestled against the rock wall and flower bed in my quiet backyard, and those two lovely but entirely separate memories merge into one.

On this summer evening, I feel a tremendous surge of nostalgia, and an ache in my throat for all seasons of life that have gone whistling by, much faster than we can ever expect. And I feel my mother's presence very close indeed. 

When I Eat A Bagel

"There's no sincerer love than the love of food." -George Bernard Shaw

I don't eat many bagels but when I do, I go hard.

Give me a basic Everything bagel - I appreciate a finely crafted bagel but I'll happily settle for a grocery store version. And, you know, if I'm really roughing it, I can make do with a plain bagel topped with Everything seasoning from TJs. The add-on seasoning is a tad saltier than I like but, as I said, in a pinch I can make it work.

What is essential for my bagel happiness is a one-two punch of dairy. First, butter. Chunks from a cold stick of  sweet creamy butter, straight from the fridge. No, cold butter won't spread as nicely as room temperature, which I also have at my disposal. But when those cold chunks of butter hit that toasted bagel - did I mention that I toast my bagels? I do! - the warm bread melts some but not all of the butter. That mix of warm and cold is crucial to my bagel happiness index. 

And now, quickly, before the butter melts completely, I slather on a generous layer of cream cheese. By cream cheese, I mean basic, unflavored Philadephia and while I'm not adverse to the whipped kind, what I really like is to cut fat wedges from an old school block of cream cheese. There's something profoundly satisfying in peeling back that weirdly textured foil and sliding my table knife - probably still dripping with butter - into that soft white rectangle of goodness. I smother the bagel and melting butter chunks with a thick layer of the cream cheese, working quickly because this entire process is a race against time with that cold/hot butter situation. No need to fuss over my knife work because the entire concoction tastes best when it's a bit lumpy and uneven.

Quick. I lay down the knife, lean over the plate, and sink my teeth into this crunchy, creamy, spicy, smooth, warm, cold slice of heaven. Take big bites, in order to get a nice combo of butter and cream cheese in every bite. Savor every morsel, but work fast because this delicate balance of deliciousness will not last long.

And when every bite is gone, I lick my fingers, groan with satisfaction, and thank my lucky stars that every now and then, I eat a bagel.

Saturday Morning Is A Mood

"Let sleeping dogs lie." -Unknown but also Gracie

Oof. Once again, I've struggled through a long, stressful, sleep-deprived week.

But baby, the weekend is finally here! And as usual, I am celebrating with a proper Saturday morning lie in.

My new linen quilt is perfect for summer sleeping; it keeps me comfy cozy with just the right amount of heft, if you know what I mean. But it's lightweight and soft; combined with an old school flat sheet and my generous red coat, I stay snug but not sweltering all through the night. 

Love my new gingham pillow covers from Poppy and Honesty. Let's be honest - they were a splurge. But the fabric is the softest linen and the style is called Sweets Wrapper because the ruffles on the ends make my pillows look like bits of wrapped candy. Don't you love how that yellow check sets off the golden highlights in my flowing mane?

I am a huge fan of a double pillow situation, as I sleep best when I'm properly propped up. I prefer a simple white linen pillow cover for my second layer of pillow, and when I'm truly living my best life,  I take control of all four pillows to snuggle up in a cozy nest.

Have I mentioned that I'm a fan of a bedside fan? Mmm, the low setting keeps the air moving softly over me as I sleep, and I like to keep an arm out of the covers to enjoy that gentle soothing sensation as my furry tufts dance in the breeze. My super sensitive ears fill with the pure joy of white noise as the whirring blades calm my mind and lull me into long, satisfying hours of deep sleep. 

Because on the weekends, I do my best to squeeze in as many extra winks as I can, knowing that come Monday, the rat race awaits me. Saturday morning is a sleepy, satisfying mood. 

* * * * *

Fact check: During the hours when humans are sleeping in this bed, Gracie does not. She snoozes in her chair in the corner of the room, or on the floor. But once the humans vacate the actual bed, she luxuriates like there's no tomorrow. 

linen quilt | garnet hill

 flat sheet | target

sweet wrapper pillow case | poppy and honesty

 linen pillow cover | garnet hill

box fan | the home depot

A Wonderful Day

“Things always get worse before they get better.” -Me

Hey, look! We are at the end of Day Two of the actual paining progress and things are coming along nicely.

The first floor of the front of the house has been painted; the second story dormers have not. This shot well illustrates that we have made no crazy radical color changes; the new color is a bit lighter and a bit creamier than the old tan-esque shade. My eyes are adjusting nicely to the change, which is a huge relief. I've never chosen a new house color before and have been fairly terrified that I would pick some innocuous shade with ugly undertones and live a life of regret forever after. 

But it looks like I'm going to be okay. 

However, this project is a long way from over, and I cropped hard to get this artificially calm and sweet shot. Before the guys left for the day, they'd pulled off some of the plastic drapes and drop clothes, and straightened up a bit. 

Here is the sad and ugly truth about how my house looked for most of the day today:

^ I call this look, "Postmodern Yard Sale." But also, doesn't the plastic draped over the climbing rose that's up against the house just to the right of the door look like a huge ghost? Ahh, it's all so spooooky!

^ Now let's direct our gaze over to the driveway so we can take in the glory of the work truck and the assortment of painting paraphernalia and lunch coolers heaped nearby. 

^ Oh, a close-up of the driveway, you say? Of course, I'm happy to provide. My poor cats are attempting to go about their daily outdoor activities but all the strange surfaces underfoot are freaking them out. 

^ More plastic shrouded bushes in the side yard - that's a ginormous hydrangea to the right of the open gate, and one of my oldest clematis vines lying in a heap on the ground. I'm accepting thoughts and prayers for their full recovery. 

^ And wouldn't you know that despite the chaos and uproar, the complete upending of all her normal routines, and the invasion of a fleet of men with noisy machines, Gracie is sailing through this project with not a single feather ruffled. In this shot, we've just returned from her walk and she knows that her dinner is waiting for her just inside the garage, and she's very happy for me to open the (hidden) side door and let her at it. 

I may have needed some deep breaths and calming mantras in order to push through the discombobulated mess that a project like this requires, but for Gracie, every day with a walk and a big bowl of kibble is just as wonderful as the next. 

* * * * *

Our humble home is in need of a face lift. Come follow along as we have her painted. 

House Painting

Paint Colors

Climbing Rose

A Wonderful Day

My Eyes

"Nature and books belong to the eyes that see them." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Not every inch of my home needs to be decorated.

Yes, I said it. And I really mean it.

This is especially true when it comes to the space around our primary viewing screen, formerly known as the television. 

Yes, it's here that I sit and stare at Tommy Shelby as he rides away from the flames of his burning caravan on a big white horse, or at the streets of Hawkins, Indiana as they split wide open to reveal the fiery evil of the Upside Down.

What I'm saying is that there's already a lot of visual action packed into this corner of the house and I don't necessarily want to add a lot more details in the way of decor. My eyes need a place to rest.

But. There is such a thing as too bleak.

See what I mean? A white console, a little router, and a lurking black screen do not make for a cozy viewing environment. My eyes protest.

So I've been tossing around some ideas to warm this space up a little bit.

Now my default go-to for zhuzhing areas such as this would be to toss up a gallery wall. Surrounding the black frame with other black frames would go a long way to soften the Samsung effect. 

But that, I fear,  would create a new set of issues.

 

See? The TV wall, if you will, is a bitty little thing that opens on either side to reveal other areas. And those areas are full of details - open kitchen shelving to the left, and a little collection of family photos on the yellow wall of the front hall to the right.

(Now that my daughters have grown up and (mostly) flown the coop, I find it very useful to have small photos of each one of them near the front door. When guests come by who may not have met all four, I have an easy reference to fill in the knowledge gaps. )

My instincts tell me that any gallery wall energies would overwhelm my clutter radar, and mostly likely scramble my current efforts to make sense of what the feud between the Umbrellas and the Sparrows is really all about. 

So I threw the gallery wall idea out the window.

Or more aptly put, I threw it on the ground. 

And that's where I found true inspiration.

Instead of art on the wall, how about art on the console?

I grabbed a couple of pretty art books already on my shelf, and bought myself a few more because, wow, that's always fun, and styled myself up a flat lay gallery of beautiful images. 

I am in love with the finished effect. Every time I walk through the room, I smile down at the colorful covers and bask in their cheerful glow. 

But when I sit down to unravel the clues gathered up by roguish Luxemborgian cop, Capitani, the books all but disappear into the console top. 

The colors in the books line up with the background decor, so that feels soothing to my brain. My TV wall still feels clean and bare, but not quite as depressingly bland as it once did. 

Now, thanks to my flat lay gallery wall, my TV wall feels suitably decorated. And my eyes are happy indeed. 

Deer

"We are a part of the earth, and it is part of us...the deer, the horse, 

the great eagle: these are our brothers." -Chief Seattle

We walk, my second born and I, in the fields behind her home. Golden sunlight warms the wild grasses, a quiet hush lies over the land. 

"Look, do you see them?" 

My daughter's eye is well attuned to studying the shadows, the deep pools of shade under the trees. And there she finds them and points them out to me.

Deer. 

Mostly mamas and their young: yearlings and this spring's fawns. 

Alert, attentive, curious about our passing by.

They stare at us. And we stare at them. 

We marvel at the mystery of each other. And we leave each other in peace. 

* * * * *

Read the story of my first trip since Covid to visit my daughter in Ohio, told from finish to start. 

Last Leg

Sweet Spot

Plant Babies

A Sunday Afternoon On The Lawn At The Scioto River

Reading:The Paper Palace

Reading: Untamed

Reading: The Vanishing Half

Deer

Reading | The Vanishing Half

Since I treated myself to these three books in an Ohio Target, I've run into them everywhere. Friends mention them in countless "good books to read" lists, people at the beach peer into their pages, and their colorful covers pop up in endless photos of beautiful bookshelves. 

I'm not claiming that they are the best three books of modern times. But for keeping my reading habit alive and giving me lots of interesting things to think about, all three of these books are sure-fire winners. 

The Vanishing Half | Brit Bennett

At the ripe old age of sixteen, identical twin sisters leave their small town roots and run away to the big city. In another two years' time, they part company and follow their own paths toward lives that end up in very different places. Due to not just the physical distances that separate them but the lies that are told, the sisters are lost to one another for decades. 

Race drives the plot.. The sisters are black but their skin is quite pale. Desiree marries a man with deep-toned skin and their daughter, Jude, shares his ebony complexion. But Stella marries a white man and spends her life passing as white, as does her daughter, Kennedy. Through multiple generations, the story explores the complicated and tragic forces that are unleashed when human beings are pigeon-holed into categories based on the color of their skin. 

* * * * *

Fascinating concept.

Believable characters.

 

Intriguing conflict.

"You can escape a town, but you cannot escape blood. Somehow the Vignes twins thought they were capable of both."

But like a fisherman trying to reel in a great grey whale, I feel like the author couldn't quite land the multi-generational, multi-decade, highly topical and complicated plot that she took on with this book. In the first half of the story, Bennett shines a light on the twins' lives and how Stella's decision to pass destroys their relationship. Then the action passes to their daughters, and a new set of topical issues reveals itself in their plot lines, leading the readers away from Desiree and Stella's central conflict. 

"In the dark, you could never be too black. In the dark, everyone was the same."

By the end, I found myself a bit dizzy what with all the jumping from one character to the next to the next, and skipping ahead long periods of time with little warning from the author. I'd had liked more time to get to know Desiree and Stella, and learn how the experience of passing affected each of them in more nuanced ways other than simply disappearing from each others' lives. 

"She hadn't realized how long it takes to become somebody else.or how lonely it can be living in a world not meant for you." 

Rather than setting her sights on that grey whale, I can only wish that our author had struck out to catch a few fine trout. Then we would be enjoying a fresh dinner of those lovely little fish sizzling over a fire, rather than shaking our heads in disappointment over the one that got away. 

* * * * *

Read the story of my first trip since Covid to visit my daughter in Ohio, told from finish to start. 

Last Leg

Sweet Spot

Plant Babies

A Sunday Afternoon On The Lawn At The Scioto River

Reading:The Paper Palace

Reading: Untamed

Reading: The Vanishing Half

Deer

* * * * *

Hey! Wanna read more about the books I've read in 2022? Check these out:

Conversations With Friends

Priestdaddy

The Vanishing Half

Untamed

The Paper Palace

Three Wishes

Crying In H Mart

Prodigal Summer

The Pull Of The Moon

Unsheltered and The Bean Trees

* * * * *

For a full list of books I've read in the past few years, click here:

2022

2021

2020

Reading | Untamed

Yes, the true story here is that I bought these three books on a recent trip to visit my second-born in Ohio because she recommended them to me. 

But once I picked each one of them up, put them in my arms, and carried them around for a few seconds, I knew that I was going to buy all three because they looked so darn good together.

Right?! 

The colors.

The fonts.

The abstract designs. 

I mean, I could do without all the round psuedo stickers cluttering up the overall effect, but dang, otherwise, these graphics are insane. 

And just for the record, I do judge books by their covers. And these did not let me down.

Now let's talk about the words inside. 

* * * * *

Untamed | Glennon Doyle

Short, concise stories.

Drawn from real life.

Rich metaphors.

Lighthearted wit.

And a deep, compelling commitment to tell the truth about Glennon Doyle's walk as a woman through this post-modern world.

Laying out her journey into greater wholeness, Doyle shows us the pitfalls that society has constructed for women - how to look, how to act, how to sacrifice ourselves for our children - and details how she learned to step around them. In doing so, she encourages her readers to do the same in living their own lives exactly as they wish.. 

* * * * *

"Hard work is important. So are play and nonproductivity."

Sometimes, when I'm driving around town, I'll look up beyond the traffic, the road signs, the buildings, and the clutter of our civilization and there, seemingly floating above the chaos, sits our beautiful Mount Rainier. She is strong and reassuring; she reminds me that there are times when we must look past the messy details in front of our eyes to see what is real and good and true.

"The only thing that was ever wrong with me was my belief that there was something wrong with me."

I liked this book. Loved it, in fact, because I am all about breaking out of society's boxes and living my life my way. I love to be encouraged in this necessary rebellion. 

But I didn't love every word. For example, Glennon Doyle's mothering style doesn't resonate with me; apparently, she prefers to tell her kids how the world works, rather than letting them figure it out for themselves. She delivers conflicting messages about the impact of tech devices in children's lives. And she often strikes a preachy tone, as if her approach to mothering is the Correct Approach and we would all be well served to follow her lead. 

Well. I can see how that would turn off some readers.

There are bits that come off as egotistical or humble braggy or blindly privileged. And I'm aware that Doyle has had a controversial career as a Christian mommy blogger, and written two other books that may read as inconsistent to this one. 

I want to acknowledge all the limitations and flaws that can be found in her work.

"The truest, most beautiful life never promises to be an easy one. We need to let go of the lie that it's supposed to be."

Because in order to find the beauty and wisdom in Untamed, I look past those flaws to discover the truths that Doyle inarguably reveals. Reading this book gives me a view of a glorious mountaintop, and for that I'm grateful.

* * * * *

Read the story of my first trip since Covid to visit my daughter in Ohio, told from finish to start. 

Last Leg

Sweet Spot

Plant Babies

A Sunday Afternoon On The Lawn At The Scioto River

Reading:The Paper Palace

Reading: Untamed

Reading: The Vanishing Half

Deer

* * * * *

Hey! Wanna read more about the books I've read in 2022? Check these out"

Conversations With Friends

Priestdaddy

The Vanishing Half

Untamed

The Paper Palace

Three Wishes

Crying In H Mart

Prodigal Summer

The Pull Of The Moon

Unsheltered and The Bean Trees

* * * * *

For a full list of books I've read in the past few years, click here:

2022

2021

2020

Reading | The Paper Palace

Most books I read are from the library. Sometimes I'll happen across some gems at the thrift store and happily snap them up. Then there are the times when I read something I love and after I'm finished, decide that I truly must own my own copy; that's when I head to bookshop.org. So rare indeed are the moments that I wander into a real life bookstore and simply indulge myself in new, untested books. 

But one afternoon while I was visiting my daughter in Columbus, I found myself browsing around the books at Target and decided on a whim to treat myself. I asked my daughter if she had any recommends, and she immediately took me up on the challenge. A few minutes later, I walked out the door as the proud new owner of the first three books to which my daughter steered me. It was great fun.

I read the books during the rest of my week in Ohio.

I read them on the plane.

I read them when I got back home.

The first book I left behind for my daughter to read.

The second book I liked so much that I kept this copy and bought another for her to keep.

The third book I shared with her when she came to visit me here in Seattle.

And now, I will share them with you. 

* * * * *

The Paper Palace |  Miranda Cowley Heller

This is the story of a single day. This is the story of a lifetime. Elle is a happily married fifty-something mother of three and her family is spending the summer as usual at their cabin in Maine. But the night before our story begins, she has a life-changing moment with a dear childhood friend; suddenly she confronts the idea of throwing away her old life and beginning again with Ben. As the hours of this day tick by, those chapters are interwoven with rich years of backstory. Spoilers: there are a number of plot lines that involve sexual abuse and sexual violence, but those dark moments are crucial for setting up the dilemma in which Elle finds herself. At the end of the day, Elle makes her decision and we, her readers, are left to ponder how it could ever be possible to measure the secrets of another person's heart. 

* * * * *

I am a self-avowed lake lady. I grew up on a small lake in southeastern Michigan, a free-spirited child who walked in the woods and swam in the lake all day every day. So I quickly connected with our protagonist, Elle, whose childhood spent at the Paper Palace - her family's ramshackle cottage on a Maine lake - felt very much like mine. We both love the morning sun creating shadows across the rippling water, the silky smooth water slipping over our skin as we swim, the luxurious warmth of the sun as we lie dripping wet on a towel. We are kindreds, Elle and I.

"There are two things in life you never regret - a baby and a swim."

Sadly, there are deep undercurrents of pain in Elle's story. Her experiences of sexual abuse and sexual violence make my stomach twist, and honestly, I found them very difficult to read, not because they are sensationalized or gory but because they are written in a straightforward, matter of fact way that makes them feel all that much more believable. These events are necessary for the story to be told, but - like so many sad things in life - I wish they did not need to be so.

"We drag our past behind us like a weight; still shackled but far enough back that we never have to see, never have to openly acknowledge who we once were."

But despite our differences, I relate to Elle. I haven't faced as dramatic a crossroads as she, but I do know exactly what it's like to blink your eyes and suddenly find yourself in the middle of your life, and wonder how on earth you made the decisions that led you to this place. And I understand the cost of letting go of what you have but also the deep mystery of what else there might be for you to experience in life. I can relate to Elle's conundrum.

"There are some swims that you do regret. The problem is, you never know until you take them." 

One more very interesting thing about this book is that while the author thought she was writing a clear and unambiguous ending, her readers disagree. There's a treasure trove of alternative endings - reader-submitted explanations of how Elle's final words and actions may be interpreted in a number of different ways. To her credit, the author has embraced the alternative ideas and publicly pondered what a mystical thing it is to tell a story. 

* * * * *

Read the story of my first trip since Covid to visit my daughter in Ohio, told from finish to start. 

Last Leg

Sweet Spot

Plant Babies

A Sunday Afternoon On The Lawn At The Scioto River

Reading:The Paper Palace

Reading: Untamed

Reading: The Vanishing Half

Deer

* * * * *

Hey! Wanna read more about the books I've read in 2022? Check these out"

Conversations With Friends

Priestdaddy

The Vanishing Half

Untamed

The Paper Palace

Three Wishes

Crying In H Mart

Prodigal Summer

The Pull Of The Moon

Unsheltered and The Bean Trees

* * * * *

For a full list of books I've read in the past few years, click here:

2022

2021

2020

The Kite

"For me, hunting is a natural fact rather than a choice." -Roberto Baggio but also Gracie

^ Miraculously, one of my daughters had the quick wits to grab this shot of Gracie as she pursues her biggest catch of the day. 

It had been a long and intense day for a bird dog. As we explored the wide grassy meadows high above the crashing waves of Puget Sound. my dog was tantalized by a never-ending assortment of birds. 

Swallows swooped .

Seagulls soared.

Ducks bobbed about on the waves.

Osprey, eagles and herons coasted above our heads.

Each of them chirping and crying and screeching and whistling to beat the band.

And Gracie was riveted by them all.

* * * * *

Now a word about bird dogs. Irish Setters are trained to track and find their prey - typically birds - and then to hold a certain position that signals to their humans that they've found something good.

Body freezes.

Eyes zero in.

Tail sits high and still.

And one of the front legs comes up off the ground into the classic "setting" pose.

An Irish Setter well trained for the hunt never gives chase.

But the setters I have known - Gracie included - do tend to tremble with excitement when they're hot on the trail. It's a fascination for me to watch my dog in this almost hypnotic trance, every fiber of her being focused laser sharp on her quarry, waiting with infinite patience for me to shoot the darn thing. Which of course I never do. So my good dog stays locked in place, pointing and trembling with the thrill of a good hunt, until she's quite ready to move on. Then the next bird appears, and we do it all over again.

Thus our afternoon on the bluffs had passed with Gracie tracking one bird after the next, her sweet hunting bred brain cells awash in whatever chemicals saturate a bird dog's brain. And I marveled again and again at her amazing patience and stillness. Despite the adrenaline that surged through her body, she never once broke her considerable chill.

Until the very end of the afternoon.

* * * * *

We were headed back across the open field toward the parking area, Gracie trotting along beside the four of us as we tramped through the tall grasses, her long leash slack and dragging behind.

Suddenly, a piercing, whistling, fluttering sound filled the air behind us.

It was as if some giant bird was lifting off the ground, beating its wings and calling to its companions.

And for the first time all day long, Gracie came unglued.

She gave chase.

In a flash, she turned a 180 and bolted back the way we'd just come, running as fast as I've ever seen her run.

As the rest of the family quickly jumped clear of her rope, praying for the safety of their ankles, I called her name, sharp and loud, three times fast. 

Gracie. Gracie! GRACIE!!

That was enough to break the spell. I noticed her pace ease off just a bit, and she subtly changed her path from an arrow shot to a gently curing arc as she circled back to me, panting and heaving and grinning with mad delight. 

* * * * *

Maybe she came because I called to her.

But I suspect that she changed her mind about her mad dash when she got a better look at her prey.

Because the creature that finally broke my hunting dog's chill was not a bird at all.

It was a kite. 

How We Roll

^ Most of our family day trips start by hopping on the ferry to cross over to Whidbey Island. We drive ten minutes down the hill, wait our turn in line, then sail out onto the glorious blue of Puget Sound. 

When my family goes out for an adventure, be it a multi-week cross-country road trip or a local day trip, we use a pretty tried and true methodology.  Here are our top ten techniques for the best travel days. 

* * * * *

1.. We opt for an early start. Often we choose to ride at dawn, but because my daughters and I don't properly wake up until noon, my husband, a natural early bird, takes the wheel first thing.

2.. We start the day by ceremoniously fueling up the car, the cooler (with ice, drinks, and food), and ourselves with Starbucks and sometimes McDonald's. Once everyone's needed are attended to, we roll.

3. We pack a picnic and eat lunch in the out of doors: cheese and salami, crackers or baguette, and sturdy fruits, like cherries or grapes. On long road trips, we frequent interstate rest areas; locally, we just grab a picnic table wherever we can find one, or tailgate out of the back of the car. 

4. We are big on maps (the paper foldy kind), compasses, and binoculars. I love how these old school tools make the simplest outing feel like a grand adventure. And when he's really feeling it, my husband packs his Petersen Field Guides as well. 

^And it goes without saying that we take lots and lots of photos. 

5. We head toward nature. Personally, I choose water every time - give me a river, a lake, a grand salty beach - but I will also gladly accept a mountain, forest, or desert. On short trips around home, we almost always spend the day in nature and on long road trips, we plan at least one stop every day to enjoy the local scenery.

6. We also brake for engineering marvels, outdoor art installations, and historical sites. Think Michigan's Mackinac Bridge, Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty near the Great Salt Lake, and a charming reproduction of the Little House on the Prairie in Kansas. 

7. But we never, ever stop for shopping. Not even flea markets, art gallery, or antique shops. I'm not sure why. But we just don't. 

^ I personally love nothing more than a few hours of lounging on a blanket at the beach. But several other members of the family do not care to bake in the sun as I do. A few years ago, we bought a simple beach shade (similar) and achieved a beautiful compromise. 

8. Mid afternoon ice cream breaks are nice, especially if tempers are a bit frayed. And if it's my husband's temper that's suffering, there will be an afternoon coffee stop as well. 

9. We carry a lot of drinking water and keep the water bottles topped up. And in related news, we are firm believers in unlimited bathroom stops. When nature calls, we obey. 

10. Last but most certainly not least, we bring along our big red pup. Lucky for us, she is a stellar traveler and an avid outdoor enthusiast in any setting. Sometimes we are mildly inconvenienced, as not every trail or beach is dog friendly, but we find a way to make it work.  Bringing our girl with us on our trips is definitely more fun for all of us. 

And that is how we like to roll. 

It's All Right

"Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun and I say it's all right." 

-George Harrison

You, my graduating class of 2022,  have been through a metaphorically long, cold, and lonely winter. Covid has pushed us into a dark and unfamiliar season of life, and demanded that we struggle through a harsh and unforgiving storm. But as teenagers already facing the considerable challenges of growing up, you more than any of us have been walking headlong into the wind of a raging blizzard and may, at this point, feel frozen beneath heavy drifts of accumulated emotions. 

It has been a rough couple of years for you. 

But change is in the air. No, I don't mean that Covid is anywhere close to over, or that our world will ever go back to what we used to call normal.

What I feel is a warmth, a hopefulness, a new sense of optimism for my young friends and former students who now step boldly out into the world as this year's high school and college graduates. 

Sun, sun, sun; here it comes. 

It's been several years now that I've made my graduation cards the exact same way. Why mess with perfection, amirite? For a full-blown tutorial, check out this post.

^ The youngest of three sisters who studied math with me, Natalie is graduating from a Texas college with a degree in public relations and heading off to Romania this fall to support international college students there. This week, she was in town and dropped by with her sister to do a bit of catching up with me. Thank you, Natalie, for staying in touch!

^ Luke found my lessons on YouTube and since last spring, we've been video chatting weekly to talk about the glories of trig, physics, and Star Trek. He's Texas born and raised, and makes me smile every week with his "Yes ma'ams" and "No ma'ams." He's off to college in the fall, ready to walk in Stephen Hawking's shoes as he conquers the world of theoretical physics. 

^ Once upon a time, Audra was a tiny little girl who studied art, history, and science with me and I was forever entertained by her quick wit and fresh eyes for seeing the world. Though it's been years since I've seen her, one glance at her graduation photo tells me that she's grown into just the determined and fierce lady that I had always expected she would become. 

^ Oh, of all the math students I've had, not a single one has ridden the wild roller coaster of algebra like Jayla. Her natural intelligence and aptitude for math has been rock solid and steady all along, but the dark days of the pandemic sent her on some loop de loops for sure. . But Jayla is one tenacious and determined lady, and did not let up until every last homework problem was completed perfectly. For that, she has earned the full measure of my respect. 

^ Another former math student, Jon has graduated from university with a degree in nursing and will begin working this summer in psychiatric care at a Seattle area hospital. Although I believe it's perfectly fine for students to change their minds along the way, I also love it when one of my high school students names a long term dream, like Jon did, and then makes it all come true. Yay, Jon!

^ Katie was a strong and steady little girl, willing to let others stand at the center of our class time together and draw the spotlight to themselves, while Katie quietly went about doing her own thing to her heart's content. I'm naturally drawn to students like that, because I was that way myself, and it's a joy to see how Katie has grown up to be a person who knows what she want. 

^ When I was growing up, I was in awe of horse girls - the type who loved horses, drew horses, obsessed about horses, and if they were super lucky, even got to ride horses! Well, besides being one of my lovely and incredibly dedicated math students, Vivian is a horse girl extraordinaire and in between our chats about sinusoids and trig identities, I loved learning about the world of horses from her. 

^ Myles was a deeply intense and sensitive child. He was the one who broke down in tears when his projects didn't go quite right, the one who craved those big teacher hugs, the one who always had a special story to share. He also loved to imagine, to create, and to build. I haven't had a chance to get to know the teenage version of Myles, but I'd bet my bottom dollar that he is still the same soul. 

So step out into the sunshine, my friends.

Bask in the glow of your accomplishments.

Breathe deep the warm air of this new season in your life. 

It seems like years since it's been here. 

* * * * *

More graduations, more graduation cards:

It's All Right: My 2022 Graduating Cards

Shine On: My 2021 Graduation Cards

My Graduating Class of 2020

My 2019 Graduation Cards

Looking Forward: My 2012 Graduation Cards

These Cards Are Legendary: My 2012 Graduation Cards