the village green preservation society. November 20, 2009

What disturbed me the most about Prep (besides the rather unnecessary graphic parts) is how relatable I found it. I really enjoyed the articulation of that awkward social situation where you know all about someone, but don’t actually know them at all, and all the drama that can create on a small campus with a lot of community rules. (Christian college anyone?) Lee is so conscious of her own private conventions, when she is or isn’t allowed to initiate conversations with other students who might be more popular than she is, who she’s allowed to be comfortable with.

This book is a nice counterpoint to Tom Wolfe’s I Am Charlotte Simmons, but unfortunately with some of the same issues. Stereotypes abound, and our protagonist Lee is painfully lacking in self-awareness, and seems to purposefully relegate herself to the sidelines. At least this is actually written by a woman.

That being said, some of the content (the graphic scenes with the almost-boyfriend, the entire nature of their relationship, where he takes complete advantage of her and she literally just lays there like a doormat and allows it) is seriously disturbing. I would hope that when we get to the end Lee stands up and realizes that her value, just like her classmates, whether they realize it or not, is not tied to her family’s ability to spend money like water.

I guess, in her own way, she does, but it seems like a watery finish to a bold novel. I’m still deciding what I think.

the best is still yet to come November 16, 2009

It would be oversimplifying to blame my lack of posts on my job. I have, it’s true, been crazy busy at work, but nothing unmanageable (remember the semester I taught Latin an hour away while holding down a forty-hour-a-week retail job? I blogged through that, right?) I have been knitting up a storm, which really does take away from my reading. And I have been suffering a book slump. Nothing sounds good to read, I start things and leave them in the growing stack next to my bed, mixed in with the multiple sizes of knitting needles, wild balls of yarn and the glasses of water which are waiting to be used as weapons in any future alien invasion à la Signs. This is a six-week slump, if you include my brother’s leave, and it’s not looking pretty for the 100 books before the end of the year. I’m solidly at 75, but I don’t see a way to fit 25 books into the next 6-7 weeks of 2009.

I have, however, knit three berets, two cowls, a hat, and two socks (not a pair). I have started a sweet shawl/sweater for my mom, nearly finished Asher’s baby blanket (don’t even say it) and finished a pair of socks that has sat in my basket for several years. I remember how in college it was possible to ascertain my stress level by the amount of knitting I was doing. I look like I’m dealing with insane levels of stress right now.

So, to conclude this short post:

Books read so far this year – 75
Books I should have read so far this year – 88ish
Hope of finishing this challenge – Dwindling.
Books bought at library sale during $5 for grocery bag blowout (I went back, Mom. I had to.) – 20, but not all for me. Wait until you see what I found for Asher.
Time spent knitting in meetings at work – easily 8 hours
Time spent discussing/debating/defending knitting during meetings instead of playing with an I.phone or checking email on a laptop like the majority of my coworkers – also easily 8 hours

I should write a post on the benefits of knitting during a meeting. Seriously.

this emotional trickery. November 9, 2009

*Been pondering this for a couple of days. Today just seemed like a good day to share. I love you, B. I’m praying.*

I’ve been thinking about grief lately. Not an uncommon theme in most lives, I expect, at least on some level. For me, this is the season of grief, stretching from the depths of autumn to the springtime. Figuratively and literally.

Recently, in the yearly struggle with the after-effects of loss, I was struck by the verse in the beatitudes about grief.

“Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5.4

I re-read the beatitudes and was struck by the fact that the promises in the beautitudes don’t really seem to be about here on earth.  The kingdom of heaven, inheriting the earth, seeing God, being called sons of God – not really the here and now’s strong points, are they? And even being filled and obtaining mercy aren’t things that you can count on in this life.

When I was younger, I remember clearly a sermon about the Beatitudes where the pastor said that we should all strive to have the qualities described in them, even if we had to work on them one at a time. I looked at the list and thought “Poor in spirit? Not even sure what that means. Mourn? Meek? Merciful? Pure in heart? Persecuted? I’ll have to settle with hungering and thirsting after righteousness.”

I guess I’m saying that I never really considered mourning as a part of my future, but what I’m learning is that mourning is a part of everyone’s future.

I know that when we read this passage, we most often focus on mourning because of sin, and that our comfort in that regard comes from the redemption offered us.  But the more of this life I see, the more I realize that this is closely related to the kind of mourning more of us are doing.

I mourn the deaths of people I love every day. Whether you see it or not. Whether you think it’s acceptable or not. Whether you think I should be finished with that or not. Five years is not that long. Or ten, for that matter. Or fifty, I suspect. When I mourn their deaths, I am not just mourning the loss of my close friend or a joyous little one whose parents will never see her grow up. I am mourning the curse of sin on this world that has caused us this pain of separation. 

When I read Jesus’s words in Matthew 5, I accept not only that I will be blessed for this mourning, but also that true comfort, true relief may not, will not be mine until heaven.

I was thinking about this particularly because sometimes when you see the scars of grief on someone you love your heart breaks all over again. You recognize the wounds that have torn your heart with guilt and horror and loneliness and you want with all your heart to reach out and heal them. And you can’t. For the rest of their earthly life, they too will bear the scars of loss that eventually all of us acquire, some of us younger than others.

When you watch someone grieve, don’t judge them. Don’t analyze their personal gestures of sorrow, small or large. Someday that will be you, and we will extend the same courtesy to you. 

Even when years have passed, and by your emotional reasoning their grief should have concluded, maybe all your grieving friend needs is a little more time.  A little more understanding. A little more of your ungrudging acceptance. They are not trying to make you suffer through their messiness.  Don’t judge where they are. Just give them a little more time.

the alarm rings on monday morning October 27, 2009

I know I’ve been AWOL for the last couple of weeks. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to finish reading even one book this month. I have been knitting (naturally) because that is something that you can do while watching your siblings play the same game five times in rapid succession. Also, it is easier to abandon my knitting when my nephew decides to take a break from snuggling with his uncle Rueben to drool on me.

Droooooool.

I know. He doesn’t really sit still long enough for me to get a solid shot. That’s him wearing the little girly beret I knit last week, but on him it looks like a super-masculine Rastafarian hat, right?

Today is Rueben’s last day of leave. I’m heading home after work to demand one more hug before  he heads back to a country where 14 more of our guys died on Monday. Fourteen. These are the thoughts that make me a praying girl.  Sorry I haven’t been around, but I have been on the road 12 hours in the last two weeks, taken two days off of work (and put in my full forty hour work week each week anyway) and been wrapped up in family while we can. I will be back soon. Don’t give up on me.

it’s been minutes, it’s been days October 12, 2009

I think this is the first day in a week (or more) that I have not felt sick. Maybe this is because I let myself sleep in until 6:30, maybe this is because I’m actually better, maybe this is because I’ve just decided not to be stressed out today. Who knows.

I finished Glass of Time yesterday. I was surprised by the reviews on goodreads, because they appeared to (in a large part) think that it did not live up to The Meaning of Night. I think that the two as a matched set are so much better than Night all by itself, which is overdone, overwrought and in need of an editor. Edward Glyver is an unsympathetic character whom you’re not sure if you want to strangle or support. When everything comes crashing down at the end of the book, you feel sure that it was what everyone deserved, but if you’re a secret romantic, like me, you kind of wish that just one character got a happy ending.

The Glass of Time we meet Esperanza Gorst, sent on a “great task” and inserted as a lady’s maid to the infamous Lady Tansor, nee Emily Carteret. Some of the plot points are a little obvious to anyone – the identity of Esperanza, Randolph Duport’s love story. On the other hand, some of Cox’s subtleties are glorious and truly masterful – the naming of both Esperanza and Perseus Duport, the introductions of people from the past without seeming overwhelming. I just know that I enjoyed this book so much more than the last. There is a satisfaction to the conclusion of this book that was just lacking in the last one.

Just a note about the author. Cox wrote The Meaning of Night after a diagnosis of cancer that could potentially leave him blind. He followed his dream to publish a novel that he had been marinating for thirty years. This second book is his conclusion to it, published in paperback shortly before his death this past March. So I guess that in some ways, the more solid conclusion found in this sequel is fitting.

I’m highly recommending this book to gothic novel fans.

crack the shutters October 11, 2009

Today is a day of good things. I believe this.

In church, we read the entirety of the book of Esther in celebration of Purim. As one of my Sunday School kids pointed out, Esther was willing to sacrifice her life for her people just as Jesus was willing to give up His. What a great book of the Bible.

I was asked to be a part of a new ministry at the church, on the ground level of bringing something I care a lot about (adoption and family services) to our church.

I got to talk to one of the ladies at church I would really like to be friends with. Her son is in my Sunday School class and she assisted today. Got a chance to talk to her and am excited because she is just as cool as I thought.

I finished my book this morning (I will post about it later) and it was eighty times more satisfying than its prequel.

Now, I am going to go clean my apartment. Woot!

sit on the pavement while you fly October 7, 2009

I know I’m in danger of losing a large portion of my readership. To you, I apologize for this continuing knitting ramble. I apologize. I’m obsessed, and not quite sure what I’m doing. As I stated the other night in my facebook status, I’m intimidated by my own design, a little. I think I could probably make it a lot better if I frogged it all the way again and started over, but I think instead I will finish this one as is and knit a second one to nail down the finer points, like using this on the edges of my wheat pattern to keep the ladders at bay.

Do you want pictures? Will you ask nicely? Will you promise not to steal my ideas and run to press with them? (I’m cracking up over here, in case you’re wondering.) It’s a vest, perhaps a sweater, if I’m in the mood for muddling sleeves on. (Can you just pick up stitches and knit sleeves out? Because I HATE seaming.)

The wheat lace inset.

Don't judge the shape, it looks more dramatic than I think it will come out in the end.

I have never knitted anything like this, so knitting the design from my head might turn out to be a massive mistake, but I haven’t woven in the ends as I go (a trick of a lazy knitter who hates to do it all in one go at the end) to keep my options for frogging the entire project open. What do you guys think? Maybe, if you’re super nice in the comments, the second one I have to knit will land on your doorstep. (No promises, folks, no promises.)

danger danger will robinson October 5, 2009

Is anyone else seeing my blog all wonky? I don’t know what happened to mess up the columns. Any brilliant ideas?

can anybody find me… October 4, 2009

I finished the Colonnade shawl the other night, and it took way less time to dry from blocking than the sweater, less layers. I also finished the ribbing to my new project and started the pattern and frogged it…three times. I’ll show it to you if you promise not to steal my idea. I mean, I realize we are no longer in grad school and you are not all out to kill me while promoting your own future. But the only good pictures I have on my (new!) cellphone, and I haven’t figured out how to get them from there to here yet. I majored in three dead languages, so forgive me.

I re-read Sorcery and Cecelia and The Blue Sword instead of continuing on the straight and narrow of new books, but I’m going to count them, because I did, after all read them, even if it means that Atonement (I’m not kidding when I say that I get sick to my stomach in the climax moment of Briony’s lie) and In Cold Blood (a book that is good, even though I only picked it up because of Capote’s relationship with Harper Lee) and Wolves of Calla (I’m having a hard time staying involved with this one) and even the temptation of starting Stephen Carter’s New England White (his mysteries are complex and rich, with the additional result of being super-meaty and involved) stay put sadly on the bedside table. And then, yesterday I walked to the grocery store for some diced chilies and a jalapeno for my Mexican corn chowder and stopped at the bookstore and there waiting on the shelf was one copy of The Glass of Time, by the late Michael Cox, who died earlier this year of cancer, but not before writing a sequel to his first gothic tale The Meaning of Night, and (if the first 150 pages are any indication) outdoing himself in the process. Buffy, you will be happy to know that this one is less tedious to start with and, so far, has less of a hateful narrator to contend with. I even have high hopes of it ending on a less melancholy note. I’ll keep you informed.

That’s my life, folks. A lot of knitting, a lot of work, a lot of reading, and this past week, not much else. Although, fall has arrived full force and I wore sweaters several days this week. :-) Finally.

most wonderful time of the year. September 29, 2009

I’m wearing my favorite orange cabled sweater this morning. No, sadly, not one I knitted, although I have been tempted to take it apart in an attempt to replicate it. Outside, when I stopped at the grocery store on my way in to work, the air is brisk and blustery. There’s no sun, just the grey overcast just starting to turn blue.  It’s the best. Reminds me why September is my favorite month, even if it took it this long to remember itself this year. Yay! Fall!

Finished my purple leftover from the sweater wool shawl yesterday, except for the last bit of weaving ends in and the blocking, which I will do tonight, hopefully. I’m also working on a (nother) new pattern, with some sweet yarn I picked up yesterday at the same time as I picked up my perfect button for the Colonnade. Smoky purple, precisely what I would have been looking for if I knew at the time what I was looking for.

Not a great picture of the shawl with button, but best I've got.

I have been bad at reading recently. The knitting takes up my time, and I’ve been actually doing my 4-6 miles every day, which takes longer than I would like to admit, and I’ve been busy with work. Sorry I don’t have anything else exciting to report. Maybe later today.