The Kitchen Daughter

The Kitchen Daughter is about a young woman with Aspergers. She lived with her parents … until they died in a freak accident while on vacation. She’s left with a younger sister who doesn’t think she can live on her own… no friends… no job… she just cooks and when she cooks, sometimes ghosts come to visit. Real ghosts. I mean as real as ghosts can be?  You know what I mean, right?

It’s a good book – I wasn’t sure I was going to like it at first, but I definitely did. I even liked the ending. And the cover is fabulous.

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Bitter Bitch

Who could pass up a book titled Bitter Bitch? Not me, that’s for sure – maybe because I am one? And I have good reason to be – so do you. So does the main character – a Swedish woman who rants about the patriarchy more than anyone I’ve ever read.

The book doesn’t always read like a novel – it reads more like a feminist rant that you might find on… well a blog. Or in a women’s studies class. It’s got just enough of novel in it that it doesn’t read like a textbook and that makes it just about perfect for anyone who feels like a good bitter bitch session about the patriarchy.

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Slow Love

I was looking forward to reading Slow Love because I was interested in what happened to Dominique Browning after Conde Naste closed Home & Garden — but the book didn’t quite live up to my expectations.

I can’t decide whether it was my expectations that were the problem or the book itself.

I expected to find, if not inspiration, at least something significant to think about and I didn’t get either of those things. Instead, I found myself wondering why I was reading a book about a smart, powerful woman wallowing around for a year after a job loss. Why I was reading a book about a smart, powerful woman in a really bad relationship that she didn’t seem to realize (or care?) was bad.

There just wasn’t anything inspiring for me. Sleep all day – no. Sell a house in the NYC suburbs and move to a second house in Rhode Island – no. Bake cookies and muffins – no. Pine away over a relationship that was never going to work out – no. The whole idea of “Slow Love”, which Browning does a good job of talking about on her blog (which I love, by the way), never really came through for me.

If I step back and think about it more as memoir and less as inspirational memoir, I like the book better – so maybe it was my expectations and not the book, after all?

Read more about Slow Love in the BlogHer Book Club and join the Slow Love discussions.

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He’s My Favorite

Last week, I sent Jenn a tiny birthday care package that included a cake mix, a tub of frosting, and candles (a 2 and an 8.) She nicely texted me and thanked me for her package but was very particular about thanking me for the Bye Bye Birdie DVD. (Her husband thanked me for that, too – I am sure he loved the  DVD more than Jenn did. Heh.)

Then, I turned around and sent Chris a little birthday care package that included a cake mix, a tub of frosting, and candles (a 2 and a 5.) Today, he texted me… “You sent me a cake!!!!!”

Since I hadn’t had the opportunity to sing to him yet, I decided to call right then rather than texting him back. He was very excited about that cake. Apparently he hasn’t had one in a long time and was sort of wishing he could have a birthday cake.

He’s such an easy kid. But 25… how did that happen?

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Sisterhood Everlasting (The Final Book in the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Series)

I cannot write about Sisterhood Everlasting without giving away spoilers – thankfully, Sassymonkey created a Sisterhood Everlasting spoiler thread on BlogHer.com. If you want to hear me rant, click over to that discussion.

I just cannot believe that this is the book Brashares gave us.

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Thank You AT&T, I’m Sorry I was Grouchy Last Night

Everything was fine last night when I turned off my computer, somewhere between 9:30 and 10. It was, I swear. I even heard Elly upstairs having a video chat with a friend, so I’m extra sure that all was right with the world. At least all was right with the world until Michelle came home from work at 11pm and wanted to play Bingo Blitz and do some homework. Then, everything was definitely not right with the world – the internet world, that is.

There was no connection.

Michelle came to my room and informed me that there was no internet. I did not believe her. But, I also felt fear – a lot of fear. I cannot handle no internet. I have to work. TW has to work. Michelle has school work to do. There’s Bingo Blitz to play. We cannot NOT have internet.

So I got out of bed and there were only two lights on instead of six. Panic set in.

I recycled the modem. Michelle smirked across the desk from me and said she tried that.

I fiddled with the cords. I turned on my computer and recycled the modem again. I reset the modem. Still only two lights instead of six.

I called AT&T at 11:45pm. I was not in a good mood.

I recycled the modem again after the technician tried something on her end.  I reset the modem again after the technician suggested that would resolve the problem.

And when she said, “I will have to send a technician to your house…” I really, really got grouchy. And then she said, “he’ll be there tomorrow between 8am-12pm”.  I was surprised. A technician is coming out on Sunday morning? A Sunday morning in the middle of a long holiday weekend. Huh.

I thanked her and went to bed not really believing a technician would appear. (I have, after all, had some problems with AT&T technicians not showing up when they are supposed to and that’s after waiting a week for an appointment…)

But no, Greg did indeed show up. In fact he called around 9am to tell me he was on the way. He did fix our internet and all was right with the world again.

Thank you AT&T, for sending someone out so quickly. We really, really appreciate it.

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Dishwasher Love

My tiny little smaller than apartment sized dishwasher died a couple of weeks ago. I knew it was coming. There were days when I had to run a load through twice and that’s saying something since I am a stickler for rinsing every bit of food off of every dish, plate, utensil, pot or cup before it goes in there.

I sighed. I washed the dishes by hand and sighed some more. And then I forgot to call the very nice landlord. Or I put it off, really. Because I’d just called him to tell him our air conditioner was out (well one of them… we have two central units…) I figured I’d just break the news to him when he came over to look at the AC. But then I forgot again.

The AC got fixed before the next round of heat arrived and still I had forgotten to mention to J. that the dishwasher was broken. I just kept handwashing the dishes. J showed up a couple of days later to start scraping paint on the back of the house so he could paint. And I still forgot to mention the dishwasher. (I know, right?) Luckily, TW mentioned it to him. So he stopped scraping paint – came in and looked at the dishwasher. Scratched his head and went back to scraping paint.

A couple of hours later, he came in and took the dishwasher apart – doing who knows what to it, and when he started it again it made a horrible, horrible noise. At that point, he gave up and decided we needed a new dishwasher, which was true. I’ve never seen a dishwasher as small as this one. And I’m guessing it’s pretty darn old.

We chatted about what the dishwasher possibilities might be. Could he find another one to fit the space where the existing dishwasher lives? Should he rip out the counter and the shelves next to the existing dishwasher and make room for a full sized dishwasher? Should he just get us a portable?

No decisions were made… I told him that I really did not care. It’s his house, he should make the decision since he’s the one paying for it.

He left. He came back. He decided he’d go for a full sized dishwasher. I said that was fine. He left. He came back. He looked at the floor by the dishwasher and realized if he put in a full sized machine, we’d find ourselves with a section of floor that really wasn’t floor at all – meaning the existing wood floor doesn’t extend under the cabinets he was going to have to strip out.

He couldn’t decide what to do. I told him that if it were me… I’d go with a portable for now. When we leave, because we will not live here forever regardless of how much he might like us to, he can figure out what to do about the problem and in the meantime, a portable would be fine.

He wasn’t sure. He left. He came back. He left. He came back – this time with a portable dishwasher. A huge portable dishwasher. This thing is so large that I have yet to fill it completely even though there are seven people in the house right now. HUGE dishwasher and I am in dishwasher love.

Except that I can’t figure out the best strategy for loading it. That’s a bit of a frustration since I pride myself on being a dishwashing machine loading expert. But don’t you worry – I’ll figure it out soon enough. I like a good challenge.

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Patti Smith: 1969-1976

We picked Patti Smith: 1969-1976 right after Michelle moved back home because it looked fun and interesting and Michelle was in need of fun and interesting. So was I, for that matter. And it was. The pictures were fabulous and the essays at the end of the book, by the photographer, Judy Linn and by Patti Smith made it even more interesting. I had to look at the photos again after I read the essays.

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A Good Hard Look

I almost didn’t read A Good Hard Look. It was one of the books read by folks in the BlogHer Bookclub last month but @Sassymonkey didn’t need me to read it and provide a review – she had all she needed for the program. So. I thought I’d skip it because I was afraid I’d be disappointed.

I’m a Flannery O’Connor fan and a novel that includes Flannery O’Connor as a character scared the holy heck out of me.

But a funny thing happened, I started reading the reviews for A Good Hard Look in the BlogHer Bookclub and I couldn’t NOT read it. I had to see for myself. I figured if it wasn’t working for me within the first 100 pages, I’d just put it down. No harm, no foul (no pun intended…)

But I couldn’t put it down. Even after I finished the first part of the book and everything went horribly wrong in Milledgeville – I couldn’t put it down. And all the way til the end, I found myself thinking Flannery O’Connor would have approved of this book (if someone could have convinced her to read it in the first place, heh.)

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