If You Were Here

1 Comment / 2011, Books in Bed, Chick Lit, Fiction /

It’s much harder to write about If You Were Here than I thought it would be. I have some issues with Jen Lancaster and those issues make it hard to write about her writing. Those issues make it a little hard to read her writing too, but I manage it and generally enjoy it because no matter what I might say about Lancaster (don’t worry, I’m not going to say much…) I have to say that she is a pretty darn good writer.

I still read her blog.

Which is why when I happened to pass her newest book sitting on the library shelf, I went ahead and picked it up. I wasn’t sure I would read it (see above Lancaster issues, and my TBR pile is HUGE) but I knew TW would and I knew she would think it was funny and that she doesn’t have Lancaster issues so it would be fine (for her.)

But Friday, after a very long week, I needed something I could laugh about (or at) – Jen Lancaster’s book fit the ticket perfectly. I laughed. (And I cannot imagine anyone who lives in the north suburbs of Chicago NOT laughing.) I snarked about Lancaster a bit in my head, which was fun for me.

We actually ate at the green barn McDonald’s on Saturday as we quite often do and I laughed some more.

I’ve seen the Jake Ryan house and several of the other John Hughes houses. I think I need a John Hughes movie marathon now, too.

I’ve also found the book to be a nice reminder of why I do not really want to buy a house.

And a nice reminder of why I do like Stephenie Meyer and Twilight and why Vampires are better than Zombies (even though I wish it weren’t so.)

The book – funny. Very funny.  

Like chick lit – you should read this.

Like John Hughes – you should read this.

Familiar with the north suburbs of Chicago – you should read this.

Like to snark about Twilight – you should read this.

Love home improvement TV – you should read this.

I should also say to Lancaster, should she read this… cut it out with the footnotes. That got really old, really quickly. I mean really really old really really quickly.

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The Chicken Chronicles

1 Comment / 2011, Books in Bed, Favorites, Non-Fiction, Poetry, short stories, Women /

I like Alice Walker. I like chickens. Or actually, I think I have learned that I like the idea of Alice Walker and the idea of Chickens. There’s a slight difference and I think it took Walker’s The Chicken Chronicles for me to learn it.

I’ve always been a fan of Walker’s writing but while reading her books or poems, I always find myself troubled by something. Some niggling little something that I shush away because I LIKE ALICE WALKER.

I’ve always been a fan of chickens and I’ve told TW and those kids who want chickens that someday we could have them. But some niggling something about that troubled me. But, I shushed that away too because I LIKE CHICKENS.

So reading The Chicken Chronicles, I have finally decided to those niggling little feelings that something’s not quite right or not quite as wonderful as I might wish. I no longer want chickens. I’d like to visit them. I’d like to babysit a few for awhile. But I don’t think I really want to own them. I’d get attached. They’re messy.  No. I’ve decided I don’t really want chickens.

I’ve also decided what it is that has troubled me about Walker – I still like her writing. I still admire her as a woman. I’ll keep reading what she writes. But I don’t think I’ll be overlooking the little things about her that do truly bug me. Like calling herself mommy while writing letters to chickens. That’s totally an Alice Walker thing and that’s fine, it’s who she is. Great. But I don’t really like it. I don’t feel it. I’m not that kind of woman. I’m ok with her being the kind of woman who writes that way, I just don’t have to pretend I like it.

Other than that, The Chicken Chronicles was interesting. I liked it – overlooking the mommy stuff, of course. I liked the idea of her writing to chickens. I like her honesty when it comes to learning how to live with the chickens, how to take care of them, how she didn’t always do the best job or take the best care because she didn’t know. Didn’t understand. Had to learn. That’s really what I like about Walker, that’s what always keeps me overlooking the little things that really bug me about her work. Underneath it all – she’s real and she’s honest and there’s not enough of that in the world.

And I’ve re-subscribed to her blog because I liked the book enough to want to keep reading more of Walker’s letters to her chickens. Check it out at Alice Walker’s Garden. (Thank goodness Agnes of God is ok… the most recent entry scared the holy hell out of me. Not Agnes of God!… )

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It Will Take More Than That…

6 Comments / Animal Issues, Family Funk /

Early last week, Wilma got her foot caught under a ramp in her cage. She screamed – a lot. TW finally was able to release her from the ramp, but not before Wilma had been hanging upside down by one foot.

The foot — it was an ugly, bloody, swollen mess.

I called around to find a vet who would be able to see her quickly and had the distinct displeasure of speaking to one very rude receptionist before I found the very nice people at Midwest Exotic Animal Hospital.

The doctor who saw Wilma has two prairie dogs of her own, how fabulous is that. The doctor who saw Wilma prescribed some antibiotic, some painkiller, and will see her again next week to determine whether she needs to have some toes amputated (probably.) In the meantime, the vet said… keep her from being too active, keep her from climbing, keep her with her siblings.

Huh.

How the hell were we going to do that? Three prairie dogs in a single level environment? We tried some tall, large rubbermaid bins. Wilma escaped quickly. We tried the bathtub. Wilma escaped, not quickly but picture her using her siblings for leverage. Yea, that wasn’t going to work.

So Michelle and I bought a big trash bin for the three to sleep in together at night and when nobody is available to watch them in the playpen (the playpen with bars that Wilma got herself stuck between a couple of days ago while trying to escape and the playpen Pebbles, the really fat lazy one, has figured out how to escape from now.)

Wilma, in particular, does not love this trash bin. The other girls will happily bed down as soon as they’re placed inside. Wilma… not so much.

I’m pretty sure she’s going to launch herself out of the bin, at 3am, and wake me up by biting my toes.

She doesn’t look like she’s in pain, does she?

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House Arrest

2011, Books in Bed, Fiction, Women /

I picked up House Arrest because of the title/cover combination. It ended up being not quite what I expected, but that’s not necessarily bad. It was interesting and I enjoyed it – particularly once all of the characters were introduced.  

Chad. Gina. -> both storylines/characters felt not quite right, or like there was more there but the more was cut out.

Cults, social justice, medical ethics, computer ethics, parenting, relationships. All in all, nicely done.

Nice, tidy wrapped up ending.

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Home to Woefield

2011, Books in Bed, Chick Lit, Favorites, Fiction /

I like the American title better than the Canadian… just thought y’all should know that. Home to Woefield is funny. Funny. Funny. Funny. But not stupid funny.

A boy blogger who hasn’t left his house pretty much since he was 17. He blogs heavy metal and celebrity gossip and he has a bit a drinking problem.

An old dude who is a member of a legendary bluegrass music family – but he hasn’t seen is still very famous brother in years.

An 11 year old girl who raises chickens, gets sucked into church, and has a really crummy family life.

A 20 something woman from New York who has always wanted to be a back to the land kind of woman and she just happens to inherit a “farm” on Vancouver Island.

Hah. Funny. Funny. Funny.

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