Friday Book Review: Carry Yourself Back to Me

Look: It's a baby! Added for the cuteness factor, I won't lie.

I scored myself an advanced reader's copy of Portland author Deborah Reed's debut novel Carry Yourself Back to Me. A perk of book blogging and having friends in high places!

I'm always hesitant to review a book that comes to me recommended by someone whose opinion I value; high-stakes book blogging -- sounds riveting, right? I lost a few readers along the way last year during my Around the World challenge because of negative reviews. People would tell me a book to read, I'd read it, hate it, and write about it, and somehow people take this personally. I understand that general feeling -- my first book review on this blog was in response to someone who hated my favorite book.

At any rate, I read the first few pages of  Carry Yourself Back to Me and tried to reserve all judgement. I wasn't really prepared to like it (for no good reason, I should add) and so my brain kept trying to pull out of the story and assess the craft. "Anyone can write a compelling beginning," I erroneously thought, "but can you keep my attention Deborah Reed? I dare you!"

The short answer: Yes.

She did.

And my "want to dislike this" attitude was humbled. Sometimes I dislike a book because I genuinely believe it's crap (see Water for Elephants). Sometimes I dislike something because I wish I would have written it and I'm insanely jealous. Carry Yourself Back to Me falls more into that category.

The book opens with country/folk singer-songwriter Annie Walsh mourning the loss of her long-term relationship; a partnership that ended due to infidelity. When she learns her brother Calder is accused of murdering his lover's husband, a series of events unfold in Annie's life that demonstrate to her that life has a unique way of folding in on us -- especially in the throes of a crisis.

I couldn't bring myself to find much fault with Reed's rich prose, her believable characters, and her crisp dialogue. Also, I found the tangelo groves of Florida -- the setting for this book -- vivid and beautiful. (Even if I have never actually been to that particular state in the union.)

The dual themes -- running like two parallel strings from the first page to the last -- resonated with me. And I noticed the complexity of crafting this nuanced story without the hit-you-over-the-head method favored by most writer's today. The story isn't a riveting fast-paced adventure, it's a slower, steadier journey that explores what the heart wants and what it means to love and lose what matters most to you. The book is expertly plotted, which is evident by the fact that you aren't always aware of the plot. In a publishing world where books either have break-neck pacing screaming blockbuster movie or meandering literary books whose plots are thin, at best, I found the combination of a literary book with an engaging plot refreshing and rare.

Every writing "how-to" or workshop instructor vehemently opposes the dreaded flashback as a plot device.  Reed's book is a great example of why we should NEVER listen to these books or workshop instructors. The flashback scenes -- woven seamlessly into the story of the present -- provide great background and character development. Some of the flashbacks were my favorite parts. (And bonus to me: my current project depends on flashbacks. I've added Reed's book to a list I'm compiling of author's who utilize flashbacks successfully in case I am ever asked to defend the flashback! (Imagine me saying that in a big booming theatrical voice.))

So, Carry Yourself Back to Me is out on September 20th. It's one of those books that resonates long after you've finished the final page -- subtle and powerful.  Go and pre-order from Amazon!

I wish Deborah every ounce of success and hope that this book finds the readership it deserves.

Sitting in Judgement

My sister-in-law wrote a really great blog about how we judge other moms. She's totally right. We tend to think that our way of parenting is the best and when we encounter a different style of parenting, we are incredulous -- if not downright snotty about it.

I'll admit it. I've got pretty strong ideas. For example, I'm a Happiest Baby on the Block mom. Swear by it. And if other tactics work for other parents, that's fine. But they don't work for me. I believe in holding your child as much as possible, co-sleeping, breastfeeding, and limiting screen-time. I vaccinate my kids.

I've changed a lot with having a second child too. And I'll tell anyone who asks that I think it takes a second child to put the first child in perspective.

For example, when Elliott was 4.5 months old, you wouldn't find me very far from him at any time. The first night away was after he was a year old and even though I had a good time, I felt horrifically guilty that he was going to wake up that night and I wouldn't be there to feed him. I worried about permanent scarring on his fragile personality.

But next week Matt and I are leaving for Vegas for three nights.

I'm leaving my 2 and a half year-old and my 4 month old baby behind to take a vacation with my husband and our friends. We're playing in a poker tournament, seeing The Beatles Love show at The Mirage, betting on the Giants and watching the game at The Emeril Lagasse Stadium at the Palazzo, lounging poolside, and enjoying roughly 72 hours of kid free time. And, yes, after Matt surprised me with the trip back in May, I told him I needed a week to process if I'd be up for leaving the baby -- who's still breastfeeding and sleeps cuddled up in the crook of my arm every single night.

My answer: Yes. I'm going. And I'm going to take a few minutes of every day to miss my kids and then I'm going to enjoy my time away from them. (And I'll be pumping up and down the strip...which, as a friend said to me, "Isn't the worst thing to happen in a Vegas bathroom.")

However, our decision to leave our infant behind (no one seems overly concerned about Elliott, even though he is the more cognizant child and knows he is staying with his grandmas/grandpa and so thinks that we are going on a "honeymoon" per the Berenstain Bears book where brother and sister bear stay with their grandparents because Mama and Papa go on a second honeymoon) has been met with a variety of responses.

Most people are supportive. And only a small handful have said things that could be taken as discouraging. But I know that once the Facebook posts start popping up and the world realizes that Matt and I are off on vacation without the kiddos, those that think we're crazy and clearly not very loving parents since we so callously abandon our babies, probably won't say the disparaging remarks to our face. No, no. They'll turn to a spouse or a friend and say, "They left the boys? How can she do that?" And I'll never really know who sits in judgement of that decision.

That's the fun thing about social networking -- everyone will get a superficial glimpse into my life. Enough of a window to know what I'm doing and where I am; but never really close enough to understand motives or the heart behind the matter. It's the perfect place to breed constant evaluations of people's actions. AND we allow family members, friends from elementary school, colleagues, and onetime friends from summer camp to comment too. Not real comments. No one is going to say on my pictures next week: "You're a bad mom! Isaac misses you!"or "Right on! Free yourself from those littles!! I admire you!" They'll say my hair looks cute and my mojito looks yummy. Which, in advance: Yes and Yes!

So, for everyone who is tempted to make a decision one way or the other about my choice to leave a young baby behind so I can have FUN...I feel compelled to say:

It is a daily mental exercise to analyze my role as mom. I became a mom in my late 20s...if I live a normal lifespan then I will have spent 62.5% of my life on this earth as someone's mom. Right now, I'm in the trenches -- it's dirty, it's messy, it's loud. It involves a lot of calming tones and teaching how to share. I'm still giving up hours of sleep to deal with crying, diapers. Two nights ago Elliott was jumping on the bed and just leaned over and vomited on my head. No joke.

Everything about my day revolves around these two kids. And I take my job as their mother very seriously. Kids are not an accessory -- when I decided to have kids, I accepted the responsibility of parenting them too. I love them more than anything on this entire earth -- my heart is so full from the privilege of having them in my life. And I want nothing more than to raise them to be awesome humans. Kind, courteous, generous. So, it's a serious job.

But it is not my identity.

Yeah. I said it.

I own it.

These are not just my kids. Not just my sons. They are real people. I remember thinking as a kid and as a teenager that my parents didn't ever really see me as my own person -- that at the end of the day, I was just their little girl. I wanted them to hear me. This is going to be a real challenge for me...to remember as these boys grow that inside that brain are thoughts I can't see, struggles they won't tell me, and ideas and independence that they will need room to explore. Every so often, I try to pull back and ask myself, "How does Elliott see me right now? If this is a memory he will retain forever, what kind of mom is he seeing?" I don't want to be so self-absorbed in my role as mom, that I forget we are all real people.

I am going to be a parent forever. But my years of mothering my kids are relatively short. So, during these years where it seems like I am mom and only mom...I need to pull back and say, no, I'm still Shelbi. What kind of wife do I need to be? What kind of friend? What am I doing for myself because I deserve that? Every stage of life has its own crises, but my current crisis is this: How do I maintain my identity while living the day-to-day intensity of raising a toddler and a baby?

The answer is this: I take time away from them. To decompress. To refresh. To have a chance to miss them.

I will miss them. Terribly. I will walk through a casino and feel like something is missing -- I'll panic a few times. I'll call my mom and my mother-in-law more than I should.

But I've dealt with the guilt and I'm the one thing I am NOT going to do is feel guilty. And even if others want to judge my decision and talk about how they couldn't make that decision for themselves, that's okay. I don't love my kids any less because I can spend time away from them; I'm not a bad parent because I'm having highly qualified people take over the child-care for a few days.

Shelbi needs a break from "mom" and there's nothing wrong with that.

My adorable boys. Luckiest mom in the world to have them in my life and be their mom. 

Anne of Green Gables Appreciation Party

"The girls sat down by the roots and did full justice to Anne’s dainties, 

even the unpoetical sandwiches being greatly appreciated

 by hearty, unspoiled appetites sharpened by all the fresh air and exercise they had enjoyed."

It started two months ago during a book club -- that moment where a seedling of a good idea takes shape. After a long discussion about our love affair with all things Anne (with an 'e') Shirley of Green Gables, we decided that an Anne of Green Gables party was in order.

We would eat food related to the book, drink raspberry cordial, and watch the 1985 miniseries of our childhood. Then I discovered that this existed and I was beside myself with excitement. The Anne of Green Gables Appreciation Party was going to happen and we all know I love myself a good theme party.


Of course, had I been going all out, I probably would have even used some iconic image and sent a delightful invitation to tea. This picture of Anne and Diana seems particularly appropriate -- seeming as how our entire party was going to ride on my success in making raspberry cordial. (Although, in hindsight, with the ferocity of Diana's drunkenness after a tumbler of Marilla's Currant Wine, I am feeling like we should have tried that recipe instead!)

Our menu was perfect for an afternoon tea:

Egg-salad and chicken-salad sandwiches
Cranberry-Orange Scones
Shortbread Cookies
Mint and chocolate chip cookies
Crackers with Orange marmalade and Toni's homemade Strawberry jam
Croissants
Tea
Wine

In the Anne of Green Gables cookbook, the author -- granddaughter of L.M. Montgomery -- gives a recipe for "poetical egg salad sandwiches", among other traditional recipes found on Prince Edward Island during Anne's time. (It's helpful that you can find most of the recipes online instead of shelling out nearly $40 for a book since it is out of print.)

Here is the recipe for the cordial:

Ingredients

2 (300 g) packages frozen raspberries

1 1/4 cups sugar

6 cups boiling water

3 lemons

Directions:

Put the unthawed raspberries into a saucepan and add sugar.

Cook on medium, stirring occasionally until all the sugar has dissolved.

Using a potato masher, mash the raspberries and syrup thoroughly.

Pour the mixture through a strainer, extract all the juice.

Squeeze two of the lemons and strain the juice, add it to the raspberry juice.

Add the boiling water to the raspberry juice.

Allow the cordial to cool, then chill it in the refrigerator.

Here is the final product:

It was really yummy and very, very sweet. The girls over at my house agreed that adding champagne or -- ahem -- some vodka would spice it up pretty nicely too. I had none of those things, so we went with the next best thing: Diet 7-up. 

After snacking and talking, we settled into our miniseries watching and swooned over Gilbert Blythe and adored our Anne girl. This story, published over one hundred years ago, is timeless and wonderful. There is something so incredible about this precocious, impetuous, delightful orphan -- who finds her way into trouble no matter what. I'm sure I can attempt to impart upon my sons the beauty of Anne of Green Gables. Just like I will try to read them all the Little House of the Prairie books too. But something tells me that my sons (the oldest of whom just bit through his tongue for the second time in 9 months...like 10 seconds ago...) are probably gonna be more interested in swashbuckling pirates and space adventures.

Good thing I can do theme parties for those things too. 

Cookies of Catan

Sorry I've been MIA! It's been a crazy last few months and since I haven't been inspired to do many cool things, I've felt like my blogging wouldn't be inspired either. But I'm gonna try to be better. Pinky swear.

So...Settlers of Catan is kinda huge in our lives. We love games -- collect board games -- and a few years ago we listened to our friends and family who said he HAD to play Catan. And we haven't looked back.

I've wanted to do some sort of Catan themed dessert for a while now. Matt and I just traveled to Idaho for a mini family reunion and since the cousins there are also huge Catan fans, we seized this opportunity to made this dessert a reality. At first I wanted to make a cake. Then I thought cupcakes.

It evolved to cookies.

Sugar cookies, using the game pieces as a template -- candy and cookies and frosting to recreate the whole game board.

I used Matt's aunt's sugar cookie recipe. You can find it here! (These may look really cool, but they tasted EVEN better.) Matt's cousin Kathryn helped out a ton with these -- she deserves a lot of kudos for coming up with some of the details (like the river that runs through the Ore cards) and she let me take over kitchen while she was trying to prepare a meal for eight people. So, special superhero status for that.

Here is a photo spread of the evolution of our Settlers of Catan cookies.

I had a poor showing at the actual Settlers tournament. But we don't have to talk about that...

Things I Love Mondays

I will tell you what I DON'T LOVE...

Technology that impedes my Dexter watching. We lost our Blu Ray remote. That only took like, I don't know, a week. And for some reason we can't get any Blu Ray discs to start without it. It's devastating; but I'm trying to be strong.

When Season 3 disc 2 of Dexter came in the mail from Netflix, I seriously thought about packing up both my children and driving to my parent's house -- since they are both at work -- and hunkering down there to watch it. But alas, who would watch my kids? A dilemma.

Right. Anyway.

On this week's edition of "Things I love", here it is:

I love my Martha Stewart Alphabet Cookie Cutters!

Photo Credit

There are so many fun things to do with these cookie cutters! Party favors; decorations. PLUS...with a little boy who is learning his alphabet, how fun is it to cook together, make fun cookies to decorate, AND use it as an educational tool? 

Plus, someone gave me the idea to fill those suckers up and fill them with cake batter for miniature cakes.

Here is a link to my cousin's blog with a great sugar cookie recipe: Sugar Cookies! And while you're over there, you can check out all the fun things she does.

And I'm a huge fan of Martha's Royal Icing recipe. Although, it took me forever to find out that no one sells meringue powder. I had to order mine off of Amazon. But if I'm out, I use raw eggs -- just don't feed those to pregnant women and kiddos. To be safe, you know?

Just color with food dye. 

Here it is!

Ingredients:

2 large egg whites (or more if you want thinner icing)
4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar (add more to thicken the icing)
1 lemon, juiced

Directions:

Beat the whites until stiff but not dry. Add sugar and lemon juice; beat for 1 minute more. Adjust thickness/thinness as you desire. You can store the icing in the refrigerator for 3 days.

Substitute 5 TBS of meringue powder and 1/3 cup of water for raw eggs.

Now go make some cookies. 

Visiting the park as a social experiment

Sorry I've been MIA for a week. I'm a few posts behind -- I have some recipes from our Mother's Day brunch and a cake pop disaster to recount.

Plus, I'm totally addicted to the TV show "Dexter" right now. And I'm furiously trying to finish Season 2 from my instant queue on netflix because I have Season 3's disc sitting here waiting for me. I know, I know. I'm a marathon TV watcher. A few years ago, during a snow storm, I watched the entire first season of HBO's "Rome" in a night. I watched all that I could on HBO on demand and then walked to Blockbuster, bundled up in a snow-suit, to rent the rest. Pre-children of course.

And I gunned through "The Wire" during my last maternity leave.

Now, it's "Dexter."

Love it, by the way.

Even though I've been a bit of a "Dexter" junkie this past week (two seasons in one week. Now you know it's an addiction), I did make it to the park yesterday with the boys. Matt was working and I decided to load Elliott in the stroller, pop Isaac in the Baby Bjorn and make a trip -- we brought snacks and drinks. It was a big thing...getting to leave the house. Oregon's spring has been wet and gloomy. I was ecstatic for any ounce of sunshine.

When we got to the park there was a rough looking guy smoking a cigarette and drinking out of a paper bag.

Of course, because of all the "Dexter", I was pretty certain he was going to kill me. I started plotting back ways to get home through the neighborhood so if he followed me I could lose him. I contemplated sneaking a picture of him to post on to Facebook with the caption: "If I am murdered. Find this man." And in true Shelbi nature, when the creepy guy opened his mouth to carry on a conversation, I found myself congenial, talkative, and, well, downright freaking charming.

In the course of a three minute conversation where he told me about his autistic son and how he lives with his dad and doesn't like technology, I divulged my place of employment and my children's names. Doh. Idiot.

So, when the man left, I was feeling a lot more comfortable. (But since he left the way I came, I was pretty certain that I would have to employ those alternate routes home. I was going to be murdered for sure now.)

The park got busier after that. A man showed up with his daughter and an 8 month old Labradoodle. This man was goofy -- equally talkative, climbing all over the play-structure with his little girl while wearing red suspenders and a fisherman's hat covered in buttons. On a scale from 1-10, where buzzed-smoker-dude was a 6-ish on the intimidation scale, suspender-dad registered at a zero. He asked me if he could let the puppy run free and I said it was okay; the puppy was active -- running up to Elliott and licking him. Elliott loved every minute of it. He kept saying, "I pet this dog! I give this dog a stick! Elliott picked this spot to pet the dog."

Then another dad pulled up in a nice, new, shiny truck. He was well-tailored, in expensive sunglasses. His daughter was in tights and a skirt and as soon as they entered the park, that overactive Labradooble ran right up to her and knocked her back. The sunglasses-dad turned to the suspender-dad and made it exceptionally clear that his off-leash dog was unacceptable. He removed his daughter from the play area until the suspender-dad, tail between his legs (dad, not dog), packed up his daughter and his crazy dog, and left the park.

As I watched Elliott turn and say, "Where'd the dog go?", I realized that the sunglass-dad had been a bit of a douche bag. Rude even. I mean, sure, the park rules clearly state that dogs needed to be on a leash, but that dog was over-exuberant perhaps, but not dangerous. I found myself seething about how this was a classic example of entitlement -- that man totally felt like he could walk all over poor suspender-dad.

The other families left for home and it was just me and sunglass-dad. Minding our own kids. Not interacting. And who should show up? Creepy guy. New alcohol. Something to read that came in a dark black bag, and a fresh pack of cigarettes. Creepy guy sat down right next to me and lit up a cigarette. Of course, sunglass-dad had been eye-balling him from the moment he was within 20 yards to the park entrance. And the moment that lighter hit the tip of that cigarette, sunglass man raised his voice. "Hey, look, that lady has a new baby and you're smoking next to her! And that smoke is heading downwind to our kids. Can you go do that somewhere else?"

Two things crossed my mind.

1) If this guy just kills for sport, then I've got to be off the hook now, right?

and

2) Hey, thanks sunglass-dad!

Yeah, that's right. All of a sudden I was relieved that this overbearing controlling macho man was at the park. He might have been rude to the other guy, but I mean suspender-dad was breaking the rules, right? And then without a word from me, he had stood up for me -- he had told this guy what I wished I had told him, "Get away from the park." But I hadn't told the guy that. I had happily talked about my personal life and smiled, engaged him, and then inwardly worried about escape routes. In short: I was weak. I was worried about offending a guy who probably needed to leave the park. I was worried about my kids, but I was unwilling to do anything about it.

And I didn't like the sunglass-dad when he was picking on a seemingly harmless fellow father. But when he turned his attention to someone I didn't like, well, then he was my hero.

As I left the park yesterday, I contemplated this. I felt guilty that I couldn't be brave enough to ask the smoking, drinking, porn reading man to leave this family-friendly-kid-oriented play structure. Instead, I felt relieved that a man showed up to do this for me. Would Matt have asked the guy to leave? No. Probably not. But I still would have felt safer if Matt had been there with me. And twenty-minutes of this social interaction really raises a lot of questions about myself as someone who considers herself pretty progressive in terms of my role as a woman in my family.

But when it comes to sticking up to a guy at a park, I still want a guy to do that for me. I still want to feel protected. I didn't feel safe doing that myself. That isn't to say that I haven't had that role in the past -- but I don't enjoy it. I don't want to be the one to say something; if someone else does it first, I'm usually relieved.

I'm still wrestling with the message that sends my boys. Does it make me look weak? Does it make it look like I let other people do the dirty work? Or does it communicate that someday their role should be protector and guardian? Sunglass dad was trying to protect his own daughter first...I just happened to need the man gone too. I was grateful.

But really when it comes down to it, why do I feel compelled to be kind to strangers? How can I instill a healthy dose of wariness in people we don't know, while also teaching my kids to love and not judge other people? Where is the balance between those things? How can I know when I need to stand up and be the person who tells a guy to leave the park? Is it internalized sexism that makes me feel like that's not my job?

I still haven't figured it out.

Although, based on how quickly he fled the scene to avoid confrontation, I'm pretty sure suspender-dad wouldn't have asked the man to leave either. So, maybe we just all have our roles in life and I should be happy that there are sunglass-dads out there when we need them. But only when we need them, right? Because until we do, they're all just jerks. Yes, I know how it works. Now I just need to figure out what to do about it as I raise these sons.

What kind of men will they be? That is the only answer that matters.

Things I Love Mondays

I have had a crazy busy weekend. (***Again...let's pretend I posted this Monday!)

Last week I was complaining about our TV room -- a tiny 10 feet by 17 feet addition off the garage that has served as a dumping ground for hand-me-down furniture for the past five years. When we finally got rid of my germ-infested futon set that I bought when I was 18 years-old, we replaced it with a mismatched chair and love seat that needed a home after my grandma died.

Our TV was ancient and the constant source of frustration because in the world of widescreen, most of our TV shows/sporting events cut off people's faces.

You know, things like this:

Which is supposed to read "Zach Drops By The Set"...which we did figure out and isn't a huge deal...but come on it's 2011.

Matt and I have contemplated getting a new TV, but we always deduced that it wasn't a good time and we couldn't really afford it. 

But when Matt was talking about having Saturdays this summer be an open-door policy with our friends -- we'll have the grill going, have a new nostalgic movie to show, and games to play -- I looked at him and said, "Really? We're going to invite people over to our house on Saturdays to watch a movie on our tiny crappy television in a room where we only have seating for three people?" And then I asked for permission to just take care of this issue once and for all. 

I kidnapped Matt and drove him to the mall (a punishment beyond death for him), waltzed into Sears, and picked out a television. "We're getting this one," I said. He hemmed and hawed -- wanted to go home and do research. I said okay, but he had 24 hours to buy a new TV or I was going to just come back and buy the one I wanted. 

When we got home, I spent several hours on Craigslist searching for the perfect sectional to fit in our room. I called my dad and told him to come over on Saturday, we'd be putting up a new TV. Found a couch. And the Craigslist sectional could be delivered Saturday. I went out and got accent pillows, a lamp, a new coffee table. Took down the vertical blinds that were missing seven slats because of Elliott pulling on them...bought a curtain rod and curtains.

And...ta-da!

A new room.

In less than 24 hours.

Because that's kinda the way I do things. 

My argument for the rush...the money spent? Our old TV room was an un-sellable feature on this house. Looked tacked on, ugly, and unmanageable. The money we just spent on staging this room and making it functional and pretty? That's an immediate return on our house someday. It's almost like not spending any money. (Yeah, I'm on unpaid leave right now too...so, we need all the justification we can get.)

So, what do I love today?

My new 50 inch HDTV...and my new Bluray player...and watching Jackass 3D last night in all its High Definition glory. 

Our old room circa 2006:

In the years since then we had added the computer to the left hand corner, a bookshelf, and a piano. And this kept happening...

But now...(cute baby hiding over there on the left part of the sectional!)

So, who's coming over on Saturdays starting in June?? BBQ, nostalgic movies, and games? Or you can just come stare at my TV. I do. 

Friday's Book Review

**Let's just pretend I hit "post" on Friday like I was supposed to...

I decided to look tough in this week's picture becuase Andre Dubus the third spends most of his book "Townie" trying to figure out how to be tough. Okay, I lied. It's because this was the only photo booth picture that didn't feature a prominent double-chin. Looking tough in pictures = tricky way to hide fat face. I need to just adopt that look for when I'm out and about too.

Or I need to stop eating petite cheesecakes.

Either one, really.

So, this week's book is "Townie" by Andre Dubus III. It was my Indiespensable  last month from Powell's Books. (A Christmas present from Matt and my mother-in-law! My second one ships this week and I'm super excited.)

Memoirs are inherently self-serving. I think Dubus knew this -- per the interview with him that came with this book, I learned that he didn't set out to write a memoir. Instead he felt compelled to capture some important moments in his life in order to understand them and ultimately realized that he might have a book.

This book is hard for me to review because I can't exactly pinpoint what was so compelling about it. On its surface it just another writer's look at his rough history -- absent father, busy mother, drugs, and violence. But the book has a magical quality to tying all these stories together to provide meaning. More than once I would finish a paragraph and just say, "Huh" out loud to myself. Not "Huh?" just "Huh." (My exclamation of contemplative thought.)  

At the core this book is about violence. It's about what happens when you realize that you have what is necessary to punch someone in the face and drop them to the ground. Dubus talks about that moment as breaking the membrane. 

I have never punched anyone. I've hit and slapped a few people (notably boys who made comments about my breasts and thank God for my parents who raised me with enough self-assurance to feel like I could slap a guy if necessary); and in my women's self-defense class in college I got to kick a guy in a padded suit in the balls. But if we're just talking about a deeply rooted bent toward violence as a first response, I don't get that.

Dubus helped me get that. And I was conflicted as I read this book. I knew ultimately that he was going to come around and realize that punching people and sending them to the hospital isn't the key. (The scene toward the end where this big realization takes place is super intense and deeply rewarding.) I married a guy who has never thrown a punch and avoids all conflict like the plague -- I asked him once if there is anything that could happen to me where he would respond by punching someone and he honestly didn't think there was. I'm the more violent person in our relationship, I think. 

This disappointed me a little bit at the time.

Then after reading "Townie", I think I can respect that there is a balance. A delicate one. And if we take the time to truly understand people and situations, violence is rarely the answer. 

I cried a couple of times while reading this. I also felt really moved on an intellectual level.

It's not a fast read and it meanders a bit; also, the early teenage year stuff can be a bit plodding. But even in those thick chapters, Dubus gives enough meaning and insight that I think it's worth slogging through. While I didn't find myself wanting to stay up all night to finish, I did find myself contemplating this man's life long after I read the last page.

This is my first Dubus book and his portrayal of himself is honest and raw. Which makes me super curious about his fiction. I'll add "House of Sand and Fog" to my to-read list -- I want to now see what a man like this can accomplish when he sits down to create art. 

Petite Cheesecakes

Every other week or so my brother-in-law and sister-in-law come over to our house after Elliott is asleep and play games with us.

Usually it's Settlers of Catan and Ticket to Ride. But we throw in some Fast Food Franchise, Power Grid, or Blockus in the mix. (While two person Blockus is fun, Matt and I have abandoned two person strategy games from our playing line-up. When you have two competitive people living in a house you have to adapt, you know? It's the little things we do in order to stay married.)

I like to take these opportunities to bake something fun -- because, well, there are two additional people and that means there is less of a chance that Matt and I will eat an entire batch of whatever it is I feeling like making. 

Tonight: Petite Cheesecakes! I had half a bag of Costco's individual Philadelphia Cream Cheese that was expiring next week. Either we were going to eat nothing but bagels or I was going to make a cheesecake.

While these are normally made with vanilla wafers, I had Oreos. So, I substituted those instead and...let me tell you...best decision ever...

These are super easy to make and really delicious -- plus you can play around with the presentation too. (Or mix up the flavor of Oreos: vanilla, mint.) 

So, place an Oreo in a cupcake liner.

And then spoon in your cheesecake batter.

Bake and serve!

You can either place it cheesecake side up or Oreo side up! (Inexpensive red wine is a nice addition too!)

Here is what you need:

- 16 oz of cream cheese

- 3/4 cups of granulated sugar

- 1 Tbs lemon juice

- 1 tsp vanilla extract

- 2 eggs

- Oreos

- Toppings (cherry pie filling, cookie crumbs, caramel sauce)

And here it what you do:

Soften the cream cheese and beat until smooth. Add in the sugar, lemon juice, vanilla, and eggs. Beat the mixture for several minutes until it's well mixed. Fill the muffin tins 2/3 full and bake at 375 for 15-17 minutes.

Cool. Chill. And serve. 

Enjoy! 

Things I Love Mondays

Well, it's been an interesting Monday so far. My husband Matt has had some bizarre and scary health stuff going on and then his car broke down. So, we've been having an interesting day so far.

Cue the "waa-waa" trombone music!

(Speaking of which: THIS is pretty funny.)

I think that a Monday like this calls for a double dose of things I love. For your pleasure, here are TWO things I am really excited about today.

Thing #1:

Posters from Snapfish.com 

I finally got the poster I made of Elliott's first year in the mail today and I LOVE it. I decided to frame it myself instead of having Snapfish frame it for me because I have a 50% off any frame at Michael's coupon. So, yeah, that's pretty awesome.

The picture doesn't really capture the cuteness of this poster; so, you'll just have to take my word for it. There are so many cool ideas for these posters! The teacher-brain is spinning...


Thing #2:

Jewelry from Mountain Girl Silver.

My friend Alicia gave me an "Elliott" necklace and she just added the "Isaac" disc for me. I adore this necklace! And I just learned that the owner of Mountain Girl Silver is local -- her business is based out of West Linn, Oregon.

These disc necklaces are a perfect baby shower/mother's day gift. You can get them with art or with birthdates, anniversary dates. I also love her personalized wine charms. You design it and they're great. I get so many compliments and I love it.

(BTW -- when you go to her site, you can check out the Heaven Warrior Charm Necklace! And even after my intense morning...that is what made me cry today! So cool.)

Donuts Part 2

If donuts are the next cupcake (or maybe cake pops are the next cupcake and I've got a post about those suckers soon!), then I am uber trendy with my donut pan.

Fried donuts are out; baked donuts are in! Some of my naysayers have been silenced!

I took donuts to Book Club on Saturday -- here is my tray ready to go:

Are those Maple/Bacon donuts you see? Why yes, yes they are. Everything is better with bacon!

And the glazed donuts were so much better this time -- drizzling the powdered sugar/milk mixture over them when they are warm and then letting them cool was so much better than my dunking method. The glazed donuts were virtually indistinguishable from something you'd buy for yourself on a Saturday morning at some fancy-pants bakery. 

Want to make these donuts?

Head back to Eat, Live, Run's blog to grab the basic donut recipe.

And here are the recipes for the frosting!

Chocolate Glaze


1 cup of semisweet chocolate chips
1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Toss into a saucepan on the stove, warm over low heat, and stir until all those chips are melted!

Dip the donuts into the mixture while the glaze is still warm.

Maple Frosting

4 1/2 cups of powdered sugar
1/2 cup of butter
4 tablespoons of milk
2 tablespoons of maple flavoring (I used McCormick)

Whether you want to go with the powdered option (dust those suckers in sugar), cinnamon and sugar (melt butter, create mixture, dunk in butter, dunk in mixture), glazed (1 tablespoon of milk, 1/2 cup powdered sugar - drizzle), or any of the above options, you are sure to have a foolproof treat to take to parties, picnics.

Thank you US Weekly

My mom is a workaholic. She doesn't ever truly rest until her work is done.

My dad is a work hard, play hard kind of guy. (And before you go and have images of what "playing hard" looks like for my dad, let me paint a picture: It could be settling in for a four hour marathon of the food channel's Best Crab Shacks in America; staying up all night to compose music; umpiring tournaments for ASA softball; or writing down bad puns on a sheet of paper to use on waitresses when we're out to eat as a family.)

I fall somewhere in the middle.

If I'm working really hard at school, my housework and family obligations suffer. For instance: Grading papers while Elliott was taking a bath one day = every single toy (electronic, stuffed) ended up in the tub with him. And from September to June, Einstein just doesn't get walked.

If I'm feeling like my home is suffering, then school gets shortchanged. Assignments collect dust before I look at them and instead of spending four or five hours prepping lessons, I'm trying to find out how to make watching the first season of Battlestar Galactica relevant to our unit on contemporary literature. Okay, okay, I'm teasing. I wouldn't show them the whole season.

Could I do it all? Sure. And I'm certainly going to try. But let's not get crazy here...I'm not about to drive myself insane just for a small stack of vocab quizzes or for a small pile of laundry. If the students have to wait or we have to wear the same pants for a week...then so be it. Because I am the queen of taking time for myself. Sometimes I have to sneak it in. For example, it's time I make a confession: I lied to Matt about the intensity of my hemorrhoids in order to take long baths uninterrupted by children.

It was really brilliant on my part. Hemorrhoids are a valid ailment during and post-pregnancy netting myself several months of this trick. And what husband is going to say, "Another bath? Really? I'll go buy you some Preparation H or TUCKS for those things and we can cut back on our water bill."

It's only a pseudo-confession because Matt was already on to me. I said I was going to take a shower, 60 minutes later I emerged from our bathroom to two screaming kids and a stressed out husband.

Matt: What took you so long?
Me: [Hesitating] I was...shaving my legs?
Matt: Your legs still look like a Hobbit. You are a liar.
Me: Okay! Okay. When the water got cold, I crawled out and read US Weekly and ate a Cadbury Creme Egg.

Matt's says he has been on to me for a long time and allowed these escapades to go without comment as a testament of his love for me.

When it comes to what I want out of "Shelbi time", it's really simple:

- I want to read a magazine or a "candy" book (Sue Grafton, for example)
- I want to be warm (in front of a heater, in a bath...on a beach in Hawaii would be nice)
- I want a two liter of Diet 7-up/glass of red wine/Fresca/black coffee -- most often a combination of several of these beverages at once

There are variations to this theme. Sometimes I want to have "Mommy makes herself pretty time" which includes all of the above and then adds: Shaving legs, exfoliating, moisturizing, putting on a mud mask, applying make-up, curling hair, and then sitting around on my couch pretending someone is going to pick me up for a night out that didn't have to involve finding a babysitter or expressing milk in the passenger seat of a car. (Which is a far cry from making out with boys in the passenger seat of cars.)

During the ninth month of my pregnancy, I told Matt I needed to go grocery shopping and just came home with this:

And since Isaac's been born, I've acquired a pretty nice collection of US Weekly Magazines from each trip to Safeway that I've done sans Matt.

Adding these tabloids to my shopping cart is something I can do just for me. Of course, in the seven years I've been reading them, I've slowly lost touch with who some of these "celebrities" are -- but I don't care. The men are cute and the women don't have spit-up in their hair. I've never seen a "Stars are just like US" picture that showed an A-lister buying Starbucks with half of her shirt soaked from a faulty/leaky breast pad. (Oh yes, welcome to my TODAY. But the choice was go in with a wet shirt or no coffee. Which one would you choose?)

As a matter of fact, if Matt does the shopping by himself and I tell him to "bring me home a present" that is a code phrase for: You better come home with a magazine. When he buys me the magazine he knows that he's okaying the time I will need to read it too. Sometimes that means I will share a bathtub with a toddler who drives his cars up my back and points to moles I didn't even know I have and say, "Yuck." 

But when it means that I can find somewhere to hide while indulging in the lowest form of reading available to me...I'll forgo dishes, grading, and good parenting skills.

Every mom should have her one thing (for me, it's my several things) that she needs to sustain her. Hey, an US Weekly and a bottle of wine is cheaper than therapy.

Celebrity gossip, spring cleaning ideas, and amazing one-dish dinners? I've got you covered. Just need an hour alone...

Friday's Book Review

Before we begin our book review for today...somebody went to the playoff Blazers/Mavericks game last night.

Isn't that just the cutest Trail Blazer fan you've ever seen? He was a champ too -- I only had to nurse him in the bathroom once! (I'm the queen of nursing in public bathrooms -- not that this is something to be proud of. When Elliott was a baby, I nursed him in the bathroom at my brother's high school graduation and my skirt fell in the toilet.)

Of course, I didn't even take into account that the Rose Garden's playoff noise would be eardrum shattering; so, I felt like parent of the year trying to cheer for a basketball game while holding my hands over his little ears...and someone behind us spilled beer all over the Baby Bjorn...but whatever -- barring permanent hearing loss, I think it was totally worth it.

It's Friday and that means it's random book review time. Here's our book for this week!

The book is "Out" by Natsuo Kirino. (PS. The above picture is for my colleague Stacy who said I was looking uncommonly primped and ready to go for pictures seeming as how I have a newborn and a toddler in my house. I didn't primp for this. It's three-days-unshowered Shelbi. And seconds after I took this picture, I was drinking wine from the bottle (Earth Day = saving water not washing wine glasses) and spilled it down my white shirt and on to my child. Parenting fail.)

I read "Out" in 2007. But the book has stuck with me and I think it's a necessary read for fans of Japanese literature and gruesome crime dramas. (Be forewarned: There is a particularly graphic scene of mutilation ala the "Saw" movies!) It's gritty. But it's not just a make-you-uncomfortable thriller -- this book is also a social commentary on Japan's working class and it's view of women's roles in a post bubble economy. It's got the Yakuza too! And powerful things to say about love and abuse. What I loved the most was the marriage between the banal and the extraordinary.

Each of the women are fully fleshed-out characters and the themes are genre-bending...which makes this book more literary than pulp. 

Here's the blurb if you're interested in the plot basics:

Facing the daily burdens of slavish work conditions, stale marriages, and a society refusing to show them proper respect, the women on the nightshift at a suburban Tokyo factory are all looking for one thing -- a way out. When pretty young Yayoi takes a beating from her deadbeat husband, her coworkers do little more than help their friend keep pace with the line. But a new kind of sisterhood emerges when Yayoi requires assistance in disposing of her husband's dead body. 

My passion for books written by Japanese authors, set in Japan, or about Japan is a pretty big part of who I am. I think Kirino's work is great. I have her next book "Grotesque" on my to-read list. 

Thank you IKEA

When Matt and I put together the nursery for Elliott we bought some sports themed wall hangings that were on clearance at Babies 'R Us for less than five dollars. Elliott was already several months old at that point and we thought, "Well, something should go on the walls." I never particularly liked them. But whatever.

When we found out about Isaac, I knew I wanted to actually have a nursery with a theme. And in the process of upgrading Elliott to a big-boy room, I wanted to have some fun in his room too.

So, today I put up wall art that I LOVE. And all for the cost of $9.

First thing I did was buy these frames at IKEA. (I like anything at IKEA that will take me less than five minutes to assemble -- which limits me to their decorative items and kitchen supplies.)

Then Elliott and I had an art session:

After he drew me some pictures, I cut them out to match the frame and we hung them on the wall in his new room -- right above his art easel too. Every artist needs inspiration in their own little art corner!

A close-up picture of Elliott's talent:

He's kinda in a "random scribbling" phase right now. Pretty soon we'll upgrade to a "Mommy is supposed to recognize this, but I have no idea what it is" phase.

I love the idea of framing the art your child draws for you and using it for decor. It beats any mass-produced paintings that are overpriced anyway.

For Isaac's room, since he's too little to draw me anything -- I tried to put the crayon in his hand, but at 6 weeks old, he's severely lacking in dexterity; I'm working on it though. I have him enrolled in newborn Picasso class -- we just went the boring route of framing things we already had around the house. I bought these for Elliott's first birthday. They are now scattered throughout the house and so I framed three that fit our theme and perfection: We've got art!

I hung the little wooden animals today too -- I don't know if I like them there...but I was trying to avoid placing them within grabbing distance of the crib...because knowing my kids, one day after nap I will walk in and someone will have licked all the glitter off.