verbatim

Book Review

I just finished reading Small Town Odds by Jason Headley, which I found at best mediocre. Some have compared Small Town Odds to Richard Russo's novels, which I think is apt only in terms of subject matter (small-town life); Headley is nowhere near the writer Russo is. Jason Headley is not going to win a Pulitzer, I promise you.

The plot is a slim one (which needn't be a criticism, and I don't mean it to be one here) and a familiar one: Guy dreams of getting out of small town, guy remains stuck in small town, guy learns to love life in small town. (George Bailey, anyone?) In this case, it's Eric, the smart, popular high school football star. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he's an alcoholic who regularly gets into barroom fights and winds up in jail, unable to remember how or why he ended up there when his friend Deke bails him out the next morning. He's not presented as an alcoholic—the "a" word never once appears—but every problem in his life can be traced to drinking too much beer and losing control. It got really upsetting by the end of the novel; his drinking problem was never addressed, and yet it was featured prominently throughout the plot. Moreover, his penchant for starting brawls just didn't ring true in light of the rest of his characterization.

Eric is the only three-dimensional character in the entire book. The other characters, even the major ones, are pulled right from central casting: the crusty old grandpa, the tough high school football coach, the officious town cop, the new girl in town who is "somehow different" from all the other girls, the mild-mannered funeral director, the gossipy diner owner, the dopey guys drinkin' and arguin' down at the Legion Hall, the bawdy hairdresser, etc. We've met all of them a million times over, and not one of them is fleshed out in any way here.

I found both the exposition and the dialogue to be so over-earnestly "colorful" that it became almost laughable. Here's a description of the time Eric and his pals, then 12 years old, ran into trouble with a typically cantankerous old guy:

They'd crossed paths with the old man in the blue trailer a few times, because if they wanted to play in the woods behind the railroad tracks, they had to cut through his land. Unfortunately, he didn't sanction this arrangement and took it upon himself to let them know it in a most unsettling way. This last time, he passed right by any friendly warnings or gentle reprimands and cut straight into full-blaze, swear-laden threats.

I think Headley's going for the voice of the wise old rube, grinning while regaling us with his childhood tales, probably rocking back and forth with his thumbs hooked behind his overall straps, and it gets old fast. Early on, I joked to myself that I half-expected someone to mention that they were listening to the Charlie Daniels Band in a pickup truck when someone commenced to fightin', when I come across this scene, set during an all-night graduation party:

Deke danced a short jig to the fiddle of the Charlie Daniels Band playing on someone's car stereo at the other end of the field.

Really.

Furthermore, Headley's editor should be ashamed of himself/herself! Headley misuses lie/lay/lain and lay/laid/laid throughout (for instance, "Eric laid down beside her and closed his eyes" and "The air was a dark, wet blanket laying across all of them"). He also left out many a necessary comma ("Boy, Deke, I'm pretty messed up now." "You're not going to puke, are you?"), which is just plain sloppy. Perhaps a decent editor could have also helped with Headley's occasional shifting of point-of-view and with the forced aw-shucks voice.

The story was nice enough, and I didn't mind finishing the book, but Headley is no Russo, that's for dang-shootin'-sure. (Sorry.)

Ewwwww!

As of this morning, I am officially nontoxic! I finally broke down and bought these detox foot patches that I'd been curious about for so long. I've long wanted to do a detox, but I don't have the willpower to do the real thing, what with the giving up of vodka and all that other crazy talk. This seemed like an easy way to do it, plus you'd actually get to see some results. Hence the title of this post.

So you get these white adhesive pads that are filled with a combination of herbs that took Japanese scientists over 24 years to develop! (My God, I'm such a sucker.) And you stick them onto the soles of your feet and go to bed. While you sleep, the lucky special magic scientifically developed herbs are busy sucking all your body's toxins out through the soles of your feet. The next morning, you peel off the pads and then you almost gack at what you see. They are a foul shade of greenish-brownish, depending on the particular toxins your body was harboring.

Here is what the pads look like when you first put them on:

(Hey, that reminds me, I forgot to mention my toe ring here. OK, I updated it. Moving on.)

Andy forbade me to show the "after" photo; he said the pads looked like they'd been removed from a gangrenous wound. I'm thinking your imagination will suffice here.

So, do I feel any different? Well, I have to say that I got an amazingly good night's sleep. Granted, I was exhausted from an amazingly horrible night's sleep the previous night, but still—it wouldn't have been the first time if I'd had two bad nights in a row. I also woke up feeling very happy and upbeat, but again, that could have been because I was well rested. And because Andy's on vacation now. So I got to sleep late. And he took the kids to their swimming lessons. Which meant that I got to be home alone for the first time since school got out. But you never know.

And you know what? I don't feel any different when I take my various daily vitamins and other supplements either, but I keep taking them, because I believe they're doing something good for me. So maybe that's the case here. I'm going to try to convince Andy to try the pads and see how he feels. I'll also use them again; it will be interesting to see whether they always guarantee a good night's sleep and a happy feeling the next morning. Stay tuned.

Drag and Drop Fever!

First, Google Maps, and now Netflix! Did you know that you can now drag and drop movies within your queue? Trust me, if you had 292 movies in your queue, you'd be excited about it, too.

Friday's Feast

Appetizer: How many pieces of jewelry do you wear most days?

Exactly 5 6, every day: My wedding band, my engagement ring, my watch, and 2 earrings. Oh yeah, and my toe ring. If I'm going out real fancy-like, I might add a necklace or bracelet.

Soup: What is your favorite instrumental song?

Oh, come on! One? Well, then, I'd probably pick one of Scott Joplin's rags, only because they're the most familiar to me—and I used to be able to play some of them. (Which reminds me, I still haven't had the piano tuned!) Don't make me choose just one, though.

Salad: Who has a last name that you like?

I guess I like last names that have a positive connotation, like Power or Gift or Best. I also like last names that are not common but are also impossible to misspell or mispronounce (says she of the perpetually misspelled, mispronounced maiden name), like ... oh, I don't know ... say, Depp. (You knew that was coming, didn't you?)

Main Course: Name a popular movie you’ve never seen.

"Napoleon Dynamite"

Dessert: Fill in the blank:  Nothing makes me ______ like _______.

Nothing makes me skeev like seeing mice in my house—dead or alive.

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Goodbye Girl - Squeeze
2. Roll With It - Steve Winwood
3. Souvenirs - John Prine & Steve Goodman
4. Tell Everybody I Know - Keb' Mo' 
5. Adam Raised a Cain (live) - Bruce Springsteen
6. Big Time in the Jungle - Old Crow Medicine Show
7. Take Me to the River (live) - Talking Heads
8. This Dirty Little Town - Kieran Kane, Emmylou Harris, & Lucinda Williams
9. Imagination - Harry Connick, Jr.
10. Going Home - Mark Knopfler

My Way

I've been waiting for this tweak for a long time. You know how when you go to Google Maps for driving directions and they send you a different way than you want to go? So you end up having to set a whole bunch of interim destinations just so you can go along your desired route? Well, no more: Now you can just drag and drop the blue route line wherever you want! And your changes show up in the step-by-step directions too. Way cool. This is especially helpful for someone like me, because I generally know only one way to get somewhere, so I like to keep things as familiar as possible when going somewhere new or giving out directions.

Tagfree

One of my favorite innovations in recent memory is the tagless T-shirt. Doesn't that seem like something someone would have invented a long time ago? I even have some tagless unders, too. And, in addition to being more comfortable for me, I bet it's cheaper for the manufacturers to just print the info right on the garment instead of on a separate tag that then has to be sewn into place. The manufacturers being in this case, in, um, El Salvador and Korea.

Mouse Infestation: Season 1, Disc 3

Oh, ha ha ha. Sweet, silly, naive Karen. YOU ARE NOT DONE UNTIL THE MOUSE GOD SAYS YOU ARE DONE! Mbwahahahaha!

Next thing we know, the cats have chased another baby mousey into the milk crate o' coloring books and are staking it out. We got all day, buddy, so don't think you're gonna wait us out. Sure enough, a pursuit ensues, culminating in the living room. The girls and I are huddled in the kitchen, peering out through the French doors. I could actually see the little varmint scampering to and fro (mostly fro) and getting batted about by the catties. (Yes, Mr. Mouse did almost look cute, and yes, I can see why someone might want one for my pet. I, however, am not that person.) Meanwhile, Pete is trapped in the den, which is on the other side of the living room. I can hear him crying, yet I am unable to go from the kitchen to the den, because that would entail crossing the living room. Where the mouse is. But wait! Remember that stupid, useless slider from the den, the one that leads to nothing so we never use it? Out the door I go, around the side of the house to the den, where I pantomime to my scared, sobbing Pete how to open the slider. He's free! I've rescued my son! In the wussiest way imaginable!

Andy eventually comes home, but by this point the cats have chased our little rodent friend under a radiator and are holding a candlelight vigil until he comes out. He never does. Andy leaves a shitload of traps out overnight and catches exactly zero mice. Nada. Nuttin' honey. So we can look forward to another exciting day around here, I suspect.

Domestic Wildlife Update

Yesterday afternoon the cats were acting really crazy, so I suspected the worst: Yep, they had found another baby mouse to play with. This time they managed to kill it, so they were just sitting there staring at it, willing it back to life so they could have more fun with it. Luckily, it had expired under the dining room table, so I was able to ignore it until Andy got home to remove it. He did the old hand-in-the-plastic-bag reverse maneuver and took it out to the trash.

So today, after a lovely time at the pool (Man, it's hot here!), we came home to find another dead rodent—this time in the middle of the kitchen floor. It was only 2:00, so I knew we couldn't ignore it until Andy got home, and yet I wanted a break from the sun (Did I mention how hot it is here?), so we couldn't go back out. My problem with the old hand-in-the-plastic-bag reverse maneuver is that I didn't even want to feel the outline of the little corpse through the flimsy plastic. (This is one of the main reasons I don't want to get a dog: I know that I would end up being the one to walk it, and there is no way I'm grasping a warm, freshly baked turd through a nanometer of plastic twice a day.) So, first I threw two paper towels on top of it. I wasn't even happy about approaching the thing, but I did it. It's all for the kids, it's all for the kids, I kept chanting. (I think I also briefly allowed my brain to be occupied by an entirely new persona.) Then I put on a puffy ski glove and inserted my hand into the plastic bag, gently grabbed the paper towels and dead mammal under them, and did the inside-out bag thing. Tied it up, took it out to the trash.

Came back in, saw a carpenter ant the size of a sandwich coming my way. Squashed it, threw it away. Like nothing. Heard the kids calling from the living room, "Cat throw-up!" (Gee, I wonder why? Eat anything interesting today, guys?) Cleaned it up.

I'm done. I mean it. I'm done.

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

Mine is pretty pathetic:

Ethel Schoeffner Elementary School is a school in Destrehan, Louisiana. It contains grades 4-6. The mascot of this school is "The Sharks". This school allows all kinds of people to attend.

Wouldn't you think that almost anyone at the school could add something to that? How many kids attend, when it opened, who Ethel Schoeffner was, etc.? I mean, what's the point of creating an entry with almost no useful information in it at all?

Book Review

A few days ago, I finally finished reading You Remind Me of Me by Dan Chaon (pronounced "Shawn"), which Doppelganger chose from my Amazon Wish List to send me for the last BAFAB. OK, now I'm almost too tired from making all those hyperlinks to do the review.

This was a great read, and I only wish I could remember who recommended it to me in the first place. Granted, it's just about the most crushingly depressing book I've read in ages, but I couldn't put it down. The story is told in a series of flashbacks and present-day narratives, all from different points of view. That sounds as though it would be confusing, but it's not. We start off in 1977, just after young Jonah is attacked by the family Doberman, leaving him alive but permanently scarred: "Jonah was dead for a brief time before the paramedics brought him back to life." Chapter 2 introduces us to Troy, whose parents are going through a nasty divorce, so he spends most of his time with his drug-dealing cousins: "Around the time that Jonah was being brought back to life by the paramedics, Troy Timmens was reclining in a beanbag chair in a trailer house on the outskirts of St. Bonaventure, Nebraska, watching some teenagers smoke marijuana." Then we go back to 1966 just as Nora, a pregnant high-school girl, is whisked away in disgrace: "At the home for unwed mothers, Nora still holds out hope that the baby will stop growing, that it will die." Finally, we flip to 1997 to meet Loomis, although we don't actually get to meet him yet: "A child disappears from his grandmother's backyard on a morning in late spring."

Really uplifting stuff, eh? Yes, after reading the first four chapters, I was ready to call it quits, but I stuck with it, and I'm glad I did. The storytelling is masterful, the writing is gorgeous, the characters are believable and, in their own flawed ways, sympathetic. (Well, most of them.) Their desolate, desperate lives are presented so realistically, so poignantly, and so kindly that you can't help but feel for them.

As you can probably guess from the "home for unwed mothers" plotline, there's a lot about adoption in here, and I read with interest the interview with Chaon in the back of the book (which is also how I found out how to pronounce his last name). He too was adopted, and like one of the characters in the book, he sought out his birth parents. He says, "Meeting my biological father answered some of my questions, but not as many as I imagined. I had always thought that the traits I clearly didn't receive from my adoptive parents must have had their basis in heredity. Yet, as it turned out, my biological father was very much like my adoptive father!" There's a lot in this book about how we become the way we are: Is it nature or nurture or a combination of both—or neither? Perhaps we just "invent ourselves," as Chaon's wife suggested to him, thus planting the seed for this whole novel.

I heartily recommend this book, and if you're put off by my warnings about how depressing it is, I'll just say that it's those first four chapters that are by far the hardest to get through. I can't wait to get my hands on his earlier collection of short stories, Among the Missing.

Whither "Siouxsie & The Banshees"?

Courtesy of Cracked.com:

Here's a scenario: You start a rock band, which you just happen to name after spending several hours huffing paint and drinking bleach. You spend a few years playing small clubs until you're discovered by a major label and start selling a lot of records. And suddenly you realize that the stupid name you thought up when you were huffing all that paint is going to follow you around for the rest of your life.

Here are the 25 bands who, regardless of their own musical quality, have the stupidest names on record.

Go read the whole list; some of the descriptions are hilarious.

Monday, Monday

Today presented me with a miserable confluence of events, to wit:

1. I had a thoroughly unsatisfying night's sleep. First, one kid needed me in the middle of the night, and I couldn't fall back to sleep afterward, then I did, at which point another kid decided to join us in bed, and I couldn't fall back to sleep again, so I slunk off to the abandoned twin bed, but I still couldn't fall back to sleep, then I did, at which point the aforementioned child returned to claim the twin bed, so I dragged myself back to my bed, but I couldn't fall back to sleep yet again, then I did, at which point all 3 kids wanted breakfast, of all things.

2. As soon as I got out of bed, I realized that I was sick to my stomach. I've had only one stomach bug in my life, so this is not a familiar feeling for me. I never did throw up, but I certainly was wishing for it at one point. Oh, and I had run out of Saltines, the only remotely appealing food group when you're sick.

3. So, tired and nauseous . . . I know, let's go to the pool for swim lessons! I want to sit around in the hot sun and make small talk!

4. Then, back home, slightly less nauseous but still feeling icky, time to make lunch!

5. Now, at last, it's time to drop off the kids at Barbara's so I can go for my annual OB/GYN exam, which I've had to reschedule twice already, so I don't dare cancel despite my tender tummy. But, oops! Barbara has to go to a funeral, so I get to bring the kids with me. I call first to make sure he's on schedule, and he assures me he is running at most 5 minutes late. This is the first time I'll be seeing him (my old one moved away last summer), so I make sure to arrive a little early.

6. The waiting room is the size of a toaster-oven and overflowing with patients. And he doesn't take me for 45 minutes. The kids are ready to go home with any of the other nice mommies there—anyone who's leaving.

7. Then I get to have a pelvic exam with a new doctor, while feeling ill and knowing my kids are out of their minds bored in the tiny waiting room. A pelvic exam under ideal conditions is never anyone's idea of a good time, so I suppose I should be grateful that this one was relatively short.

8. We're back home now, and Andy just got home, so I'm going to take a leap of faith that things will start looking brighter now. You know I'll update you as necessary.

UPDATE:
9. That was fast! Turns out Andy's going out to dinner tonight with some friends. I either didn't know or had forgotten. So the kids are mine, all mine!

Book 'Em

Via Doppelganger, a book meme:

Five most recent books you've bought for yourself:

1. The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children by Wendy Mogel
2. Heat by Bill Buford
3. The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai
4. The Accidental by Ali Smith
5. Baking by Dorie Greenspan

Five books you've most recently given other people:

1. Body Trauma: A Writer's Guide to Wounds and Injuries by David W. Page (for BAFAB)
2. The Art of Standing Still by Penny Culliford (for BAFAB)
3. Chez Jacques: Traditions and Rituals of a Cook by Jacques Pépin
4. The Devil in the Kitchen by Marco Pierre White
5. Bone in the Throat by Anthony Bourdain

Five most recent books you've lent other people:

1. The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
2. Blink by Malcolm Gladwell
3. The Last Days of Dogtown by Anita Diamant
4. Snowflower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See
5. Them by Francine du Plessix Gray

Last five books you looked at on Amazon (all after reading the Sunday Times Book Review, but I don't plan to buy any of them for myself or anyone else.):

1. Peony in Love by Lisa See
2. The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter
3. New England White by Stephen L. Carter
4. Be Near Me by Andrew O'Hagan
5. Summer Reading by Hilma Wolitzer

Top five books on your "to read" pile:

1. Small Town Odds by Jason Headley (I'm still counting this, even though I started it this morning, because I got to read only 3 pages.)
2. The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children by Wendy Mogel
3. Heat by Bill Buford
4. The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai
5. My Life in France by Julia Child and Alex Prud'Homme

Bottom five books on your "to read" pile (you know, the ones that somehow keep staying on the bottom, despite your strong FIFO tendencies):

1. Any Human Heart by William Boyd (lent to me over a year ago)
2. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller (sent to me over a year ago, in shock and outrage that I'd never read it)
3. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenberger
4. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
5. Family History by Dani Shapiro (purchased accidentally, thinking it was something else)

Coming Attractions

Check out these photos and tell me which movie you're more excited about: Spike Jonze's "Where the Wild Things Are" or Harrison Ford playing Indy one more time? (Re the latter, I got a chuckle out of this movie poster mock-up.)

I Just Don't Care

That bastion of self-awareness, Hello Kitty, has determined the following about me:

If it weren't such a respected source, I wouldn't be so upset about my results. Clearly I'm just a hateful wretch. (Via the Nag)

Lost in Monochrome

As you know, we don't watch TV around here, and we have only basic cable anyhow, so we don't even get all the shows on HBO. (I have so far successfully avoided finding out what happens at the end of "The Sopranos," so please keep your conversations to yourself until the final season is released on DVD. Lalalalalala, I'm not listening.) Anyhow, Andy was intrigued by what he'd heard about "Lost," so we got the first disc, which contains the two-part pilot and the first two episodes. As we started watching, Andy commented, "Gee, I didn't realize this would be all in black-and-white. I think I like it, but I'm not sure...." We watched the first part of the pilot one night, and the second the next. The following day, Steph sat down to watch "The Princess Diaries 2" for the ninety-millionth time and called from the living room, "Mom! Dad! There's no color!" Oops, it seems a connection from the DVD player to the TV had gotten loose. All of a sudden it dawned on me: I bet "Lost" isn't in black-and-white after all! Last night we settled in for the first episode and, sure enough, there's blue water! and green trees! and red blood! etc. It really should have dawned on us that no one would consider setting a series on a lush, tropical island—and then filming it in black-and-white. D'oh!

(The funniest part of all this is that I recently had lunch with my old high-school pal Kate. She was talking about some of the movies she'd rented based on my reviews. She had just seen "I Heart Huckabees" and enjoyed it, although at the time she was surprised that I hadn't mentioned that it was all in black-and-white. Turns out she had just moved to a new house and had failed to re-connect the DVD player properly. We had a good laugh about this at her expense. Kate? Now I'm laughing at myself too. Feel free to join in.)

Back to "Lost." So far it's enjoyable, and I'm interested to watch some of the interpersonal dynamics play out, but it's not all that gripping for me. Some of it seems very realistic (the plane crash itself), and some of it not at all (the utter lack of panic afterward). I sort of like Jack, who looks like he could be Adam Sandler's handsome older brother, but I don't care for his hair. And if we don't find out soon why he has those two ridiculous scratches on either side of his face, I'm going to chalk them up to a really lame, last-minute makeup job. (Wait! He doesn't look like he was just in a plane crash! Rough him up a bit—and hurry!) And who knew Kate was wearing an orange tank-top? What a revelation. One thing I know for sure: From the number of times the screen goes black, indicating where there would have been a commercial break, I can promise you I would have given up on this a long time ago if I'd been watching on regular TV. That is surely the #1 reason I don't watch TV. Anyhow, we'll probably continue watching for a bit and see what happens.

Self-Referential Post

I try not to do too much blogging about blogging, so I'll do this on a weekend, when my readership plummets dramatically. (I think that means that lots of people stop by verbatim from work. Which is fine by me.)

I doubt anyone has noticed, but I've cleaned up my sidebar a bit. For one thing, I've finally found a solution to my problem with the Archives. The way it was before, I could list only the most recent 10 months, and then one had to click on the "Archives" heading to access the others. I was convinced that no one knew they could do this—and, worse—that people would think I'd been blogging for only 10 months. (Horrors!) So, now that TypePad has this new "pages" thing (trust me, you don't need to know the specifics), I can have just one link to all of "My Archives," although I do have to remember to add to it manually each month. I've also added "My Recipes" and "My Movie Reviews" to that list.

Some blog sidebars have a running list of the most recent comments received—would this interest anyone? Are there other features you'd like to see here? It's all for you, folks (well, most of it, anyhow), so let me know. And, for the record, I realize that I'm probably the only one who uses my own Search bar, but that's OK.

I Hate Meeses to Pieces

You know how in old comics, when a woman sees a mouse, she stands on a chair and screams, "Eek!"? I just did both those things when I glimpsed Mr. Jones with one in his mouth. Then he lost it, and now he and Gracie are reenacting a scene from "Wild Kingdom" in the hallway—and I'm freaking out. Every time I peek through the French doors and see that rodent run by, I want to shriek. Mr. Jones has caught it a few times in his teeth but keeps losing it—or perhaps letting it go, just for fun. Now he's trying to shove his big fat body under a very low table, where I guess the little varmint is hiding.

Oh, man, why did I tell Andy to take away the mousetraps? (For the record, it was because it had been many weeks since we'd caught anything, and I was worried one of the kids would get hurt. Damn.)

Friday iPod Random* Ten, With Opening Lyrics

*Well, not entirely random—I skipped songs that have sucky first verses (or no lyrics at all).

1. Tougher Than the Rest - Emmylou Harris

Well, it's Saturday night
You're all dressed up in blue
I've been watching you a while
Maybe you've been watching me too

2. Why Worry - Dire Straits

Baby, I see this world has made you sad
Some people can be bad
The things they do, the things they say
But baby, I'll wipe away those bitter tears
I'll chase away those restless fears
That turn your blue skies into grey

3. A Summer Wind, A Cotton Dress - Richard Shindell 

I was hers and you were his
The night we met up on that bridge
You knew then what I know now
That love put down gets up somehow  

4.  Could We - Cat Power

Could we take a walk
Could we have a talk alone
In the afternoon

5. Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash

Darling, you've got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I'll be here till the end of time 

6. Last Day of the Last Furlough - Bill Morrissey

In the late afternoon
The sky and the calm sea join
And fade into the dirty silver of an old coin
It's so still it could be morning
But for the heat held in the sand

7. I'm Alright - Loudon Wainwright III

I woke up this morning
Didn't feel that bad
Last night was definitely not
One of the worst I'd ever had

8. City of New Orleans - Steve Goodman & John Prine

Riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
15 cars, 15 restless riders
3 conductors, 25 sacks of mail

9. Growin' Up (live) - Bruce Springsteen

I stood stone-like at midnight
Suspended in my masquerade
I combed my hair till it was just right
And commanded the night brigade

10. Alison - Elvis Costello

Oh, it's so funny to be seein' you after so long, girl
And with the way you look I understand
That you are not impressed
But I heard you let that little friend of mine
Take off your party dress

Movies

We watched only about half of "Solaris" before deciding that it wasn't worth going on. It had a pretty cool sci-fi premise and starred the ever-yummy George Clooney, but it was disjointed and slow and ultimately not interesting enough to stay up for. I got a glimpse of George's tush before tuning out, though, so that was worth something.

I regret to confess that I also didn't finish watching "The Merchant of Venice," and it's for a really unfortunate reason: I couldn't understand a lot of the dialogue, particular from Jeremy Irons! I've watched plenty of Shakespeare and can pretty easily slip into that mode of careful listening, but this almost seemed like a sound quality problem. If there had been subtitles, I surely would have continued watching. Although, to be frank, Al Pacino wasn't ringing true as Shylock for me.

At this point there's surely a new reader who came to verbatim because a friend said, "Oh, you would like this blog—Karen does a lot of movie reviews!" And this person is now saying, "But, does she ever watch a movie in its entirety? Anyone can watch half of a bunch of movies!" And to this I reply with the following:

If you're feeling kind of pissed off at the world and want someone at whom to direct your anger, rent "Overnight." This is a fascinating documentary about Troy Duffy, a Boston bartender who briefly has a glimpse of the big time. His screenplay for "The Boondock Saints" was picked up by Miramax, who also showed interest in his band, the Brood. Duffy starts off as a total asshole, and his brush with fame and wealth only intensify it. He treats his brothers and friends like dirt and is just about the most self-impressed, self-absorbed, arrogant bastard you can imagine. You can't help but cheer when he fails, as he ultimately must. (For the record, I felt certain I'd seen "The Boondock Saints," but now I don't think so. Nor will I.)

The antidote to that kind of bad joss is "Kolya," a lovely little Czech movie about Louka, a cellist and confirmed bachelor, played by Sean Connery lookalike Zdenek Sverák (who also wrote the screenplay—and his son Jan Sverák directed). The plot is a well-worn one: Louka finds himself thrust into the position of primary caregiver to a little boy. Initially he has no interest in Kolya, but of course he comes to love him and to feel his life enriched by him. What makes this movie different from all the others like it are (1) solid acting all around, (2) the subtle way the story is allowed to unfold, and (3) the setting. You see, Louka is Czech and Kolya is Russian, and this is 1988, so their relationship is by definition a complicated one. We get to see what it was like to live in Prague before, during, and after the Cold War. Don't miss this beautiful film.

What Breed of Liberal Are You?

My Liberal Identity:

You are a                                         Reality-Based Intellectualist                   , also known as the liberal elite. You are a                   proud member of what’s known as the reality-based                   community, where science, reason, and                   non-Jesus-based thought reign supreme.

Take the quiz at www.fightconservatives.com

This is a very funny quiz. Here are my responses, for those who are interested in such things:

1. I'm torn between A and B. A is obviously more important, but B is Just. So. Fucking. Funny. I'll have to go with A, in order to prove that I'm taking this thing seriously.

2. F

3. F

4. This was a real toughie. They're all appropriate responses, but I'll go with E, because of the whole idea that this country was founded, at least in part, to avoid religious persecution and to separate church and state.

5. E

6. I have no opinion on this one, so I just picked F.

7. I'm alternately giggling and having dry heaves over this one, but I'll go with E. They're the people most deserving of that kind of disrespect. As much as I hate the White House and Supreme Court folks, even I'm not that disrespectful.

Guarded Optimism

I'm trying not to get political here yet—in truth, I think it's ridiculous to be even thinking about November '08 now—but I can't help but be heartened by the latest Gallup poll:

Of all the potential face-offs, not a single one would go to the Republicans if the election were held today. (Well, and if all the voting machines worked properly, that is. Don't get me started.)

Slice of Life, Thin Please

Scene: Supermarket deli counter, where the electronic board that shows what number is next wasn't advancing.

Deli Guy: 78? 79?
Me: I'm 82.
Male customer: I'm 81.
Deli Guy: I'm 46!
Female customer: I'm single!

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

Mine has a puzzling title, until you realize it's a year:

662

Events

• The regent Grimuald usurps the kingship of the Lombards, driving Perctarit into exile and killing Godepert.

Births

• Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, Japanese poet (approximate date)

Deaths

• Maximus the Confessor, Byzantine theologian
• Godepert, king of the Lombards

Not a heck of a lot happened, did it? Phew, I don't feel as though I missed much.

Meanwhile, how many of you have made a donation to the Wikimedia Foundation? I have not, but I think I'm about to. I use Wikipedia every single day, both for fun and for work. I really find it indispensable, so I've decided that it's in my best interest to help them keep it going.

Wrong! I Mean, Right!

In the last few weeks, I've taken on a new client, and it's not in academia at all. I don't want to elaborate on what I'm doing in case my client happens to go a-Googlin', but suffice to say it's a whole different field for me. I'm still deciding whether I like it enough to keep at it. In the meantime, the work comes in small, steady batches, which I like, and the pay is comparable, so we'll see.

Anyhow, I thought things started off pretty well, until I handed in a longish assignment last week and got a call back from my client, pretty much scolding me for messing up in a big, overarching way. I was stunned. Although this is a new type of work for me, it's still editorial in nature, and I know my stuff after all these years. I was so upset that night I could barely sleep. I just couldn't believe I could have so dramatically misunderstood the task at hand, and I felt terrible that the client had to go back in and undo a bunch of stuff I'd done—he'd made sure to tell me that he would have to do that, and no, he didn't want me to redo it.

I half expected them to let me go, but I got another assignment to do over the weekend, and I took pains to do it the way the client said, even though it seemed strange to me.

So then last night an urgent email came to the whole freelance "team" with some updated guidelines. Turns out my instincts were right on the money, and we're supposed to do it exactly the way I'd done it the first time! I practically had to sit on my hands not to reply with a 24-point red "Nyah-Nyah!" To be fair, they'd been somewhat misled by their client as to what was required, but still. It had been easy enough for me to figure out what was the "right" way to proceed.

I forced myself to wait till this morning to reply, and I tried really, really hard not to be smug. A bigger person wouldn't have replied at all, but it turns out that when someone criticizes my work unjustly, I am teensy-weensy and petty and immature.

Not Fair

What sucks more than waking up on your last day of 4th grade and throwing up? Poor Steph. It's just a short day and, obviously, nothing will be going on of any real importance, but it's a nice rite of passage and closure. And I felt bad sending Pete off with the neighbor, because it's a big deal for him, too. I hope Steph will be stable enough to be left home for a little while at dismissal time (or even to be dragged along), because I do want to thank the teachers and say goodbye to them.

12 Cabins, 12 Vacancies

Because there's a chance I might never realize my dream of a shower stall with a glass door, I might opt for this shower curtain instead.

GameGirl

As you know, we are big on cards and board games in this family. In the past I've discussed my lame attempts to turn Pretty Pretty Princess into a strategy game, my suggestions for making War more interesting—and cheating at it (so the kid wins, but still), and so on. So, with all these extra days between the end of Julie's preschool (one final sob; OK, I'm done) and the end of Steph and Pete's school (tomorrow!), Julie and I have been playing lots of games in the mornings. Here's a rundown of our current favorites:

1. Trouble. Is there anyone my age who doesn't hear endless refrains of "Pop-o-matic, pop the dice! Pop a six and you move twice!" every time they play Trouble? I like Trouble. It's quicker than Sorry! and it's fun. There's a nice balance between luck and strategy.
2. Chutes and Ladders. I love Chutes & Ladders. We have the newish version, showing those lovable, whimsical kids, but I'm pretty sure all the "good" versus "bad" behavior depicted is the same as in the old version I grew up with. Some of the examples are really puzzling. For instance, you get to advance only 8 squares for eating a healthy meal and growing taller, but you get to go ahead 10 squares for baking a cake? What gives? And you backslide only 4 squares for riding your bike recklessly and breaking your arm (which I did 7 times in a row yesterday! Broke my arm, got a 4, broke my arm, got a 4, etc. Julie thought that was the greatest thing ever.), but you lose a whopping 43 squares for dropping a pile of dishes? And some of the pictures are still so dated. How about the kid who hides a comic in his history book and ends up sitting in the corner with a dunce cap—What is this, the '50s? (Julie says, "Oh, he's in time-out and has to wear that hat.") And the kid who walks in the puddles without his boots or coat and catches a cold (Hello? Rain doesn't cause colds, germs cause colds!), then has to sit with his feet in a tub of hot water. Have any of you ever put your kids' feet in a tub of hot water when they caught a cold? Regardless, a fun game.
3. Memory. We used to call this Concentration when we were little, and we played with a standard deck of cards. Now we have a real game of it, with pairs of cards featuring dogs, birds, shoes, books, bunnies, paintbrushes, and so on. I consider myself a pretty good Memory player, but Julie is unstoppable. It's almost scary. I have beaten her only once in the last year or so. Even Andy, who is better at it than I am, has trouble beating her.
4. Race to the Roof. This is a little-known Ravensberger game that we inherited from Lauren. You have to move through the levels of a house and try to get to the attic. You rearrange the room cards each time, so it's always a little different. Pure luck, but fun. It's the kind of game where you can be about to win and then get sent back to the beginning. Or, as I like to say, "Oh, Julie! Would you mind going down to the basement for me?"

"And Then Everyone Thought About Dying"

It's been eons since I've read anything funnier or more spot-on than the Raymond Carver Mad Libs. First fill out this list, and then plug your responses into the mock-RC story.

1. man’s name
2. bad job
3. woman’s name
4. slightly better job
5. bad feeling
6. -ing verb plus activity
7. verb plus bad decision
8. smokable thing
9. alcoholic drink
10. a different bad feeling
11. question that’s a cliché
12. terse, uncommunicative response
13. another, different bad feeling
14. a bad, dreary place
15. description of a car
16. verb that is an activity
17. greeting
18. unfriendly reply
19. angry sarcastic question
20. a really bad place
21. way of saying good bye
22. another bad place
23. another alcoholic drink
24. unusual object
25. -ing verb plus activity
26. another smokable thing
27. another alcoholic drink
28. expletive
29. made-up word
30. another expletive
31. infinitive verb

If you've read any Raymond Carver at all, even his shortest short story (Which one is that? I don't know.), you'll appreciate this.

"I'll Just Be a Minute..."

One of the things about daily life here in the 'burbs that makes me go absolutely, positively ballistic is when people double-park for no really good reason. And, let's face it, there aren't all that many really good reasons for double-parking, beyond taking 10 seconds to run out and drop a letter in the mailbox or something like that. No, I'm talking about people who turn off the engine and go into a building to conduct business, leaving their car blocking one or more cars and restricting traffic flow. And these are never the kind of people who run. These are women in high heels who stroll into the dry cleaner, self-important businessmen who lock their Jaguars before going into the bank, and so on. They clearly feel entitled to inconvenience the rest of the population because they are so special and, well, just more important the rest of us schlubs.

So, yesterday, I left the pool and went to get the kids frappes*. Because I'm that nice. There were no spots in front of the ice cream place, so I parked in the adjoining lot and walked the 100 feet into the store. A few minutes later, as I was paying, a women came in and said, in a very pleasant voice, "Is there someone in here who double-parked right outside? I can't get my car out and I have to leave." There were maybe 5 of us in there; we all just shrugged and shook our heads, looking around at the others. She said, "I know it's someone in here!" (Someone outside must have seen the culprit.) She finally turns to a young woman (yes, in high heels) at the end of the line and says, "Did you double-park outside?" "Yes," she replies. Half-beat pause. "I need you to move your car so I can get mine out." "Just a minute." Yes, she really said, "Just a minute"!!! She was going to get her ice cream, dammit! I couldn't stand it any longer, so I turned to her with a big, faux-helpful smile (in retrospect, it was perhaps almost maniacal-looking) and said, "Oh, there are plenty of spots in the lot!" and Woman #1 added, "You'd just have to walk a little more." Woman #2 ignored us. Woman #1 ran out again, then came back in a minute or two later and said, a little less pleasantly but still much more polite and even-tempered than I would have been able to manage, "You know, I could just call the police and have you towed! You are double-parked and blocking my car!" Woman #2 did not even blink. I said, again with the big crazy smile, "You should move your car!" She didn't even acknowledge me, just took her ice cream and her change and strode calmly out of the store.

It was one of the most stunning examples of "the world revolves around me" attitude I've seen in ages. I was sputtering mad by the time she left.

*Boston's answer to a milkshake

Almost Like Getting a Valentine

If it weren't for the wonderful world of IMing, Andy I wouldn't get to "connect" throughout the day and have special little exchanges like this:

Andy: I think we should call someone to ream out the sewer line.

me: I'll do it: "You lousy sewer line! I've had it with you!"

Andy: good one

me: :-)

Andy: what reminded me is that our sink was clogged here at work for the last week or so, and today we pulled out a rat the size of a buick, that seemed to solve it
me: oh. my. god.

Almost 19 years of marriage, and we've still got it.

Dinner and Part of a Movie

First, let's get the lousy movie out of the way: "Undertow." Actually, it wasn't altogether lousy. It started out very promising, with convincing performances by Dermot Mulroney and Josh Lucas, but it just lost steam about halfway through. There's only so much murder and mayhem in backwoods West Virginia that one can take while eating.

Now, on to the dinner, which was delicious. I made Carrot Orzo and this:

Balsamic Marinated Steak

½ cup balsamic vinegar
2 Tbsp light-brown sugar
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp crushed dried rosemary
1 tsp kosher salt
½ tsp pepper
1½ lb. skirt steak, cut crosswise into 4 equal pieces (Update 12/29/07: I've since used this marinade many times with steak tips, because it's impossible to find skirt steak in the winter. You might have to adjust the grilling time a bit, but it's just as yummy. I tried it once with flank steak, but the meat stayed too tough because flank really requires a much longer marinating time, and I like this recipe because you get a ton of flavor with just a short soak. And guess what: This has become a favorite of all three kids!)

In a resealable plastic bag, combine vinegar, sugar, garlic, rosemary, salt, and pepper. Pierce meat all over with a fork; add to marinade, and turn to coat. Let marinate at room temperature at least 15 minutes, or cover and refrigerate up to 1 day. (I did it at room temperature for about an hour or so.)

Heat grill to high; oil grates. Remove steaks from marinade, allowing excess to drip off. Grill steaks 2–4 minutes per side for medium-rare. Transfer to a plate; cover loosely with aluminum foil, and let rest 5 minutes.

Daddy's Day

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there! This morning I dragged myself out of bed, went to Starbucks to get Andy a venti dark (God, it's so embarrassing to say that out loud—I guess you get used to it if you do it every day), and then made him a Nutella-banana panini.* Meanwhile, the kids were putting the finishing touches on his cards. We put everything on a tray, along with the sports section, and brought it up to him in bed. He deemed his panini delicious but perhaps a little too sweet for breakfast—more like a treat. But that didn't stop him from eating every last morsel.

*It's easy. Just cut the crusts off two slices of wheat bread. Spread some Nutella on each piece, then lay on a few very thin slices of banana. Close it up, butter one side, and brown it in a pan. Meanwhile, butter the other side, then flip it and brown that side. Slice in half and dig in!

Boston's Secret Weapon

For baseball fans who can't figure out why the Sox have been so erratic lately, I will clue you in: Stephanie is the magic charm. She has never been to a game in which the Sox have lost. Just this past week, for instance:

Tuesday: Was Steph there? Yes. Did the Sox win? Yes.
Wednesday: Was Steph there? No. Did the Sox win? No.
Thursday: Was Steph there? No. Did the Sox win? No.
Friday: Was Steph there? Yes. Did the Sox win? Yes.

You get the idea.

Give 75% of My Regards to Broadway

I got only 12 out of 16 right on Mental Floss's show tunes quiz. Not surprisingly, the 4 I got wrong were the 4 I had to do wild guesses for because they are the 4 shows I'm not familiar with: "Kiss Me Kate," "Carousel," "Singin' in the Rain" (I know only the title song), and "Show Boat." I guess I need to rent those classics that I somehow missed!

Love Always

How cool—a blog devoted to handwritten book inscriptions. Here's today's installment:

I love you gorgeous
Marry Me!

It was found inside a copy of Generation X at a used-book store. Sigh.

Friday iPod Random Ten

1. Galveston Flood - Tom Rush
2. Doesn't Make It Alright - The Specials
3. Love Is the Seventh Wave - The Duhks
4. Goodbye Girl – Squeeze
5. Can't Find My Way Home - Steve Winwood
6. Closing Time - Lyle Lovett
7. Kitty's Back - Bruce Springsteen
8. All the Roadrunning (live)  - Mark Knopfler & Emmylou Harris
9. Mexican Home (live) - John Prine
10. Laughing River (live) - Greg Brown

Friday's Feast

Appetizer: Fill in the blank:  The best thing about where I live is _______.

...it feels very suburban (lots of houses and trees), but in fact we're on the T (that's the subway/streetcar for you non-Bostonians) and can quickly and easily get to all the major highways.

Soup: Create a new name for a deodorant (like “Flower Fresh” or “Shower Scent”).

How about "Stench-Be-Gone"?

Salad: What was the last piece of software you installed onto your computer?

CyberDuck, to upload completed work to a new client's FTP site.

Main Course: If you were to receive a superlative award today beginning with the words ”Most likely to…”, what would the rest of the phrase say?

...Cry Every Day This Week! Between Julie's last day of preschool, Pete and Steph's "portfolio share" days, Steph's flute concert, and so on, I'm turning to mush! These end-of-year events really get to me.

Dessert: What two colors do you like to wear together?

My "uniform" is jeans and any T-shirt that's handy, so I don't really have a color scheme. I'm of the school that everything goes with denim, and I like all colors, so there you go.

Old Friends Is Best

Yesterday an old college pal visited from the west coast. We had overlapped at Wesleyan for only 2 years, and we calculated that we hadn't seen one another in 20+ years (as far as we could recall, we last ran into one another at a John Prine concert in Cambridge in the late '80s), but somehow the connection (for lack of a better word) was still there. We sat at my kitchen table and just laughed and chatted and laughed and caught up and laughed for nearly 5 hours! By the time I dropped him off at the T station to greet his family at the airport, we felt certain that if we lived nearby, we'd still be good friends.

What is it about these friendships we make when we're young(ish) that they can withstand so many years, miles, and life experiences? It's a good thing, whatever it is.

So, I know the question you're all aching to ask is, "What did you serve for lunch?" Well, I decided to make an Italian muffuletta, but when I got to the market, I kind of chickened out on all the Italian cold cuts I was supposed to get (What the heck is mortadella? or capicola, for that matter?), so I got just the known quantities of smoked turkey and genoa salami. But they neglected to remove the skin/peel/paper/wrapper from the salami, so I got to have the dreaded experience of exhorting my lunch guest to open his sandwich and peel the [whatever] off each slice of salami. Sigh. But, let this not deter you, it's yummy:

¼ cup red wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 tsp dried oregano
⅓ cup olive oil
10 large pitted green olives, chopped
⅓ cup pitted, chopped kalamata olives
¼ cup chopped roasted red bell peppers
1 (1-pound) round bread loaf (about 7" in diameter)
¾ lb. assorted deli meats (your choice of 2 or 3), thinly sliced
¼ lb. sliced provolone
½ red onion, thinly sliced
1½ oz. arugula leaves

In a large bowl, whisk the vinegar, garlic, and oregano. Gradually whisk in the oil. Stir in the olives and roasted peppers. Season with salt and pepper.

Using a serrated knife, slice off the top inch of the bread loaf. Hollow out the bottom and top halves of the loaf. Spread some of the olive and roasted pepper mix over the bread bottom. Layer the meats and cheeses in the bread bottom. Top with the onion, then the arugula. Spread the remaining olive and roasted pepper mix on the cut side of the bread top, then replace the bread top. You can serve the sandwich immediately or you can wrap the entire sandwich tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for a day before serving. Cut the sandwich into wedges and serve.

Weepy Mommy

Today was Julie's last day of preschool. Ever. Which means it was my last day of preschool. Ever. Which means I was a total basket case saying goodbye to the teachers there.

Stephanie started there in September 1999, and all three of my kids went there, and thrived there, and I always felt great about entrusting my precious little ones to the wonderful people there. So, after 8 years, you can imagine how emotional it was to close the door on that chapter of my life.

Writing that last preschool tuition check, on the other hand, was a cause for celebration.

Ayup

Pam is right, this is the best American dialect quiz yet:

What American accent do you have? (Best version so far) Northeast New England The kind of accent they have in Boston.  There is more to it than just r's.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Wiki Wednesday

Time to learn something!

1. Go to Wikipedia.
2. Click on "Random article" in the left-hand sidebar box.
3. Post it!

Mine makes me feel a little bit hipper, a little bit more in-the-know:

Hayden Scott-Baron (Better known as Dock, born April 6, 1980) is an English professional illustrator and graphic designer. In 2001 he joined up with other comic creators Laura Watton, Sam Brown/Subi and Foxy in founding one of the largest UK Manga Studios, Sweatdrop Studios.

Dock has written several 'how-to' books on the topic of drawing manga, including 'Digital Manga Techniques' and 'Manga Clip Art'.

Dock currently lives in Cambridge, UK, and regularly attends UK animé conventions, representing Sweatdrop Studios.

Go Sox!

Somewhere on the long list of things I haven't done since having children is "Go to a Red Sox game." Whenever Andy's parents give us some of their season's tickets, Andy takes Steph or Pete. Sometimes my in-laws trade tickets with their seat-mates and the whole gang of them go. But I always stay home with Julie and whichever other kid didn't get to go.

Well, not tonight! Andy and I took Steph, and Jen babysat Pete and Julie. It was a perfect evening weather-wise (mild and breezy) and a perfect game: We won 2-1, and it was a relatively quick game, so very exciting right up until the end. My only disappointment was that Tim Wakefield pitched, which means that I didn't get to see my neighbor Jason Varitek catching.

Steph has a mad crush on David Ortiz, so she had on her #34 shirt (along with half the other fans, granted). But we were chanting "Big Papi! Big Papi!" perhaps louder than anyone.

Oh, and in July, Andy and I are going to take Pete by ourselves, so I'll get to go yet again!

Meanwhile, I became obsessed with the various circles of hell that constitute selling concessions in the stands at Fenway. What is the hierarchy? Is it worse to lug around that huge metal case of hot dogs, which is both heavy and hot, or to balance a case of icy-cold Coke bottles on your head all night? Do those guys get paid more than the guy with the giant puff of cotton candy? And how is that the peanut guy gets to charge $4.25/bag, pretty much guaranteeing him a $0.75 tip on nearly every bag, but the popcorn guy has to charge an even $4/bag? How fair is that? I assume that guys who've been there longer can exert their seniority and choose what they want to sell, and I'd love to know what's considered the best/worst thing to schlep all night vs. how much you can make. (Sorry, but I've warned you that it's scary here inside my brain!)

Just Try It, Fella

Andy's threatening to launch a blog that will take the exact opposite position of everything on mine. He's going to call it "Verboten." Har har.

Drumroll, Please!

I completed today's SET puzzle in 29 seconds! And that was on 4 hours' sleep . . . go figure.

Play Ball!

Tonight was Pete's last AA Little League game, and he ended the season with two doubles. Next year he'll be in AAA, which means two big changes:
1. Keeping official score (Now the kids do it in their heads, although we pretend they don't.)
2. Kids (not coaches) pitching
As a thank-you for coaching, the other parents got Andy a gift certificate for a local pub, where we like to have a drink and a casual dinner now and then. Nice.

None of the photos I took of Pete tonight came out good, so instead I'll offer you a shot of the cats playing with a tennis ball:

Sorry.

He's Just Big-Boned!

Poor Mr. Jones. We now call him "Biggest" even more often than "Mr. Jones" or even "Jonesy"—as in, "Oh, look! Gracie and Biggest are having a nap together!"

But even worse, I've taken to crooning "Biggie-biggie Boy-boy" at him in the most sickeningly syrupy baby talk. I know he must find it humiliating and terribly undignified, but I can't stop.

Happy Girl

Julie: Guess what I love? I'll give you a hint: It begins with a W.
Me: Water?
Julie: No. Here's another hint: It's something we're in.
Me: The weekend?
Julie: No.
Me: I give up.
Julie: My world. I love my whole world.

Book Review

Last week I read Winner of the National Book Award: A Novel of Fame, Honor, and Really Bad Weather by Jincy Willett, which was the book I won in Di's April BAFAB contest. The longer I wait before reviewing a book, the less likely I am to remember the details, but of this I am sure: I laughed out loud several times while reading this book (a rarity) and grinned throughout most of the rest. Willett has a razor-sharp wit and a real facility with language. I would love to go out for a few drinks with her—as long as I didn't end up on the receiving end of her satirical barbs! And in case you don't take my word for it, check out some of these blurbs:

• Augusten Burroughs: "The funniest novel I have read, possibly ever."
• Janet Maslin: "Riotous... hugely funny... A wicked treat."
• The Onion: "Unnerving, scabrously funny...spectacularly toxic."

You get the idea.

So. Dorcas and Abigail are twin sisters who've lived their whole lives in dumpy little Frome, RI. Willett perfectly captures the provincial, dead-end feel of so many New England towns—but tiny Rhode Island in particular—where, for example, "a half-hour drive [is] the psychological equivalent to a full-day outing anywhere else." She also loves to poke fun at pretentious Yankees:

Whatever the truth, it's a fact that the Yankee in southern New england is a shmoo, a leprechaun. An Idea. Rhode Islanders with English names talk in hushed tones about so and so being a Real Yankee and with the same reverence with which Arizona people talk of ghostly Indian tribes, who are out there somewhere, but whom no one has actually seen. Just watch their faces when they talk about old Mrs. Sprague, down the road and up the hill, watch their delighted smiles when they say "real Yankee." How badly they need to believe.

Meanwhile, the twins could not be more different. Dorcas, the narrator, is the spinster librarian, determined to live and die alone: "So I was Sister Dorcas of Frome, and some day my dessicated, indestructible hymen would be a holy relic...." Abigail, on the other hand, is the town pump, and perfectly content to be so. But they love and need each other; they understand each other and their relationship. That is, until the evil Conrad shows up and throws everything into turmoil. But I won't give any more away.

Some heavy subjects are addressed in this book, including domestic violence (mostly psychological) and anorexia, but Willett is somehow able to keep the humor up without in any way diminishing the seriousness of her topics. What a terrific read!

P.S. I just have to mention that on p. 281, Willett mentions both Framingham, MA, which is where I was born and raised, and Franconia, NH, which is where we spend many weekends at Andy's parents' ski house. Could there be any other reader of this book who has such strong ties to those two places? I felt like it was a private shout-out just for me!