Category Archives: Rave

Ten things I like about me

…in no particular order…

  1. My sense of humor — it is quirky and sometimes dark.
  2. I can still see the world through a child’s eyes and can be childlike (more often than adultlike, I fear)
  3. My cooking. I really like the food I make, at least most of the time
  4. My writing. While not as good as some, I feel that I write well and it is something I love to do.
  5. I like how I set out to ensure my kids became readers and they did. I have no doubt it had a lot to do with seeing me read, having me read to them and talking about books with them from a young age.
  6. The Illinois-shaped birthmark on my inner right calf.
  7. I treasure my values and the fact that I continue to strive to be a better person, morally and ethically, all the time.
  8. I like that I have an open mind about many things, except maybe certain foods — like I don’t want to ever (knowingly) eat a bug.
  9. I like that I can identify more birds than the average human.
  10. I like that I raised (okay, helped raise) two outstanding humans. When I dismiss it as genetics, they both assure me that it was much more than that.

Three Wishes by Liane Moriarty

When my book group read Big Little Lies a couple years ago I was a little embarrassed how much I enjoyed the book. I even enjoyed the HBO adaptation (and am rewatching it with Dean). Because I’d read Big Little Lies, Liane Moriarty books kept being recommended to me but I resisted until last fall when I read Moriarty’s The Last Anniversary.

After that I made sure to check for Moriarty’s books on sale at Amazon on a daily basis and was rewarded on February 4th when it was on sale for $2.99 ((maybe I need to revise my reading challenge to allow for deeply discounted books?)). I downloaded it and read it within a week.

Moriarty’s books are definitely plot-driven ((until a former intellectual-snob neighbor made a derisive remark about plot-driven books, I assumed all books were plot-driven, otherwise why read them?)). She often begins  her books with the ending, but just enough of the ending to make you keep reading in order to find out what happened. In Three Wishes she begins the book with a scene at a restaurant in which a pregnant woman is stabbed in the abdomen with a fork by another woman at her table. The book then goes back and tells the story from the beginning. The author throws in the occasional viewpoint of a stranger.

I definitely loved this book and I don’t care that it is not high literature. It was a fun book to read and I plan on reading as many of Liane Moriarty’s books as I can. I already have four or five on hold at the library.

In which Arthur and Benedict bring me JOY!

As some of you know, my mother died last August, three days after my 60th birthday. She’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a few years before she died, and I suspect she’d had it for even more years before the diagnosis.

I stopped sleeping well about two or three years ago – waking up at night worrying about my mother and feeling guilty that I was not helping out more. After her death, the feelings of guilt stopped, but other worries took their place, so I continued to wake up at night worrying about this or that – work, the election, and other things I don’t want to discuss here.

Whether or not it was the general feeling of anxiety, grief over my mom’s health and death, or a by-product of not sleeping, I must have been in a state of situational depression for some time. Not that I always felt unhappy – but I never felt completely happy and some things that used to interest me didn’t interest me anymore – birds, reading, cooking…

I’d vowed to get back into reading – especially books that interested me. Most of the books we’d read for book group were fine, but only a few really caught my attention and made me want to stay up reading them all night. Two of those books were about men of my general age who for different reasons discovered new things about themselves in the course of the books. One book was The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce and the other was A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman.

Cover of The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper. A man sitting on a sofaAmazon recommends books based on books you buy and in March a book called The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper by Phaedra Patrick was recommended and was on sale for $1.99 so I purchased it. It looked like something I would like, but I didn’t start reading it until last week. I liked it immediately and early in the morning on July 11th I was halfway finished with the book. Sitting on our back porch, I put the book down, took a sip of coffee, looked out through the screen at the bird-filled backyard and I felt something I’d not felt in a very long time. I felt JOY! All Caps with an exclamation point and bold font JOY!

It took me by such surprise and I realized that I could not even remember the last time I felt pure JOY! that I began crying. I cried because there were so many times over the past few years that I should have felt this way – when I saw my daughter after a long absence; when my brother married the love of his life; when my son graduated from Oberlin. I cried because I’d wasted so much time on being angry or resentful or guilty or scared or despairing.

Then I wondered where the feeling came from. Coffee? No, I drank it every day. Sitting on the back porch? No, I did that every day too. Hearing birdsong and watching birds? No, again, that was a daily event. The Curious Charms of Arthur Pepper? Bingo, it was Arthur Pepper’s search for who his wife was before they met that did the trick, I am sure of it. In fact, I’ve been on a similar search – I’ve been going through items I brought back from my mother’s house and trying to find meaning in them. Why did Mom have them? Where did they come from? Who had them before she did? I think I suddenly realized that even though I’d lost my mother in August (really, years before that) I’d not lost the memories of her and could make more memories because of the items from her house. I mean, I have not even got to the letters and have only touched upon the photographs.

Cover of Rise & Shine Benedict StoneSince that epiphanous Tuesday, I’ve been able to sleep through the night (with a slight hiccup this week because of a work issue) and have been able to deal better with things that would have made me angry, resentful, or despairing before that Tuesday. Maybe I am done with the grief – the grief that I told everyone, including myself, I didn’t feel.

This morning as I sat on the back porch drinking coffee, watching the birds, listening to bird chatter I once again felt JOY! This time, the book I’d just put down was Rise and Shine Benedict Stone, Phaedra Patrick’s second book. Coincidently, I am halfway through it.

So this is not a book review but a too-long, twisty-turny open thank-you letter to Phaedra Patrick who I hope continues to write charming, witty, life-changing novels. And no, I don’t believe we are related but it would be cool if we were.