July Books

The Girls of Room 28, by Hannelore Brenner
Last Words, by George Carlin
Children of Green Knowe, by Lucy M. Boston
Under the Overpass, by Mike Yankoski
The Mood Cure, by Julia Ross
Nomad, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali



The Children of Green Knowe was a great find.  A friend recommended the movie "From Time to Time" which I very much enjoyed.  When I discovered that it was based on a book series I had to check it out.  Now we're slowly enjoying the whole series.

Under the Over Pass was a refreshing view of Christianity at work.

Nomad was enlightening, if somewhat worrying as well.

May/June Books

Size Matters Not, by Warwick Davis
Infidel, by Ayaan Hirsi Ali
The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg
 Blindspot the hidden Bias of Good People, by Mahsarin R. Banaji
The Art of Non-Fiction, by Ayn Rand
Geektastic, by Holly Black


I'm pretty sure I read more than this, but I did a poor job of keeping track.

Randomness

It's been a weird unsettling day.

We rushed to the car to go home tonight from an interrupted outdoor performance of "Midsummer's Night's Dream" which, until that point, had been excellent.  It was interrupted by a sudden rain and thunderstorm.  As we drove home I felt like I was in a video game, literally dodging fallen trees, barely able to see through the windshield.  It somehow felt like a fitting end to the day.

I'm tired.  Bone tired.  This morning Bit Boy and Hot Dog  were joined by a neighboring teen and they all helped me clear a side yard that had been ignored for the last two years.  We got it nearly all done in just two hours, and it was good hard work. 

I needed it.  When I'm troubled I need to move, work hard, and wear my body out.  I've been struggling to keep my chemo brain functioning, on track.  It's so hard for me to manage things that were trivial before.  I make lists, tuck notes in places where I'm sure to find them, but still, I miss things.  It felt good to have something concrete to do, and to get done even a small bit of work that piled up during my lost year.

It was good to focus on something outside my head.

Yesterday a good friend let me know her nephew had died.   What words do you give to a family who have lost a young life too soon?

Today another friend posted about the death of a friend's 15 year old.  A parent shouldn't have to bury their child, yet I know of too many who have. 

What does it mean, that a child dies?
And the rest of the world goes on?  

When something awful happens, a life changing diagnosis,  the death of a loved one, time stops.  There is a bubble of unrealness that surrounds that moment and separates it from everything else.  It's disorienting to look around notice that other people aren't noticing how, now, in this moment, everything has changed.  My heart breaks for those in the silent bubble of that isolation of loss and shock.
 
Today I went on.   I don't always know why I go on, but I'm glad  I can. 

In the eye of the beholder, or in the heart of the creator?

I have a confession to make.

I've been feeling sad that my oldest (almost 15 y.o.) seemed to have given up his art.  He used to draw all the time.  (Pretty good stuff too.  I'm totally not biased.)  He rarely puts pencil to paper these days.  These days he spend most of his free time on the computer.  I have to admit I am one of those moms who roll their eyes and wonder what will become of this generation of computer addicted kids.  (Writes me, from my lap top.  I know.  I know.)  The point is, I was sad because I though the computer was taking up time he could spend making "real" things.

But look:

Bit Boy "modeled" this using Blender a while back.

And last week he did this tea set:












And this self portrait, using a drawing pad (last year's Santa present), and GIMP.

 And then today this:














Which is the nicest Mother's Day card I could get, for, oh, so many reasons.

April's Books

• Ten Little Indians, by Sherman Alexie
• The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven, by Sherman Alexie
• Equal Rites, by Terry Pratchett
• Wyrd Sisters, by Terry Pratchett
• Let's Pretend this Never Happened, by Jenny Lawson
• The Ten Things to Do When Your Life Falls Apart, by Daphne Rose Kingma
• Leaning into Sharp Points, by Stan Goldberg

What a month.  Someday I may write more about it.

So book wise:

I am almost in love.  If I wasn't already happily married, with three wonderful children, and sterile, I would totally hunt down Sherman Alexie and make sure his genes were passed on. 
The lucky man is safe from me for above reasons. 
Also, I have no idea how to find him.

Terry Pratchett is brilliant, and I can't believe I didn't really discover him, or at least appreciate him, until last year. 

Let's Pretend This Never Happened was so funny it took me weeks to read it because it made me laugh too much.  Seriously.  People kept asking me "What?!?" and then I'd have to read the whole chapter out loud.  And they'd laugh.  And take my book.  Bastards.  (Well, not technically, since, oh, never mind)

The Ten Things to do book was (apparently) completely forgetable.

Leaning into Sharp Points was brilliant in an entirely different way than Terry Pratchett and Jenny Lawson.  I starting reading this expecting to have my father-in-law moving in with us.  He died, but by then I was half way through the book.  It was well worth finishing.  I learned a lot about living in this book about dying.

Now I am in need of more seriously funny or brilliant books.  Give me your suggestions.  (Not the books.  I love you and don't want you to spend your money on me.  Although, a HUGE thank you goes out to Shawn for the Jenny Lawson book, which was hand delivered to my door on a hard day.  I didn't know it, but I totally needed that.  :-) )