Memorable Memoirs

I just finished reading two memoirs, each one interesting and completely different from the other. The first one I read was Take Good Care of the Garden and the Dogs by Heather Lende, which takes place in Haines, Alaska. We just returned from a visit to Haines in August, and I bought this book as a gift for my friend who was taking good care of my dog while we traveled. We frequently buy each other books so we can swap them at the next Bookworms Anonymous meeting, which is how I came to read this one (www.bookwormsanonymous.com). Heather recounts her life-threatening, life-altering, life-affirming accident and her rescue and recovery, as well as other events over the span of about two years, sharing her daily life, funny and sad moments and her spiritual growth. She depicts her small, friendly town well--I felt like I was there again and longed to return, to meet more people and maybe even meet Heather at the Mountain Market for a cup of coffee.


After Heather's spirit-lifting tale I began reading At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream by Wade Rouse. This hilarious tale takes place in southern Michigan, near the Saugatuck-Douglas area, and it's about Wade's and his partner Gary's quest to live a Thoreau-esque life by leaving behind all of their "urban tchotchke" and living the simple life in a cabin in the woods. Wade's recounting of their adventures in WalMart and gardening and his descriptions of everything from the locals' appearances and attitudes to his own wardrobe had me laughing out loud. Gary channels Lucy Ricardo, seeking guidance on social etiquette and expectations. He intersperses his own tale with passages from Thoreau's Walden, and shares some of his childhood angst and the challenges and prejudice he faced growing up gay. I recommend this to anyone who needs a good belly laugh--it's like a sitcom in print.

The $4.99 mood lifter

If anyone out there still doesn't own an Easy button from Staples, it's time to drive to your nearest Staples (I drove all the way to Grand Rapids, 5 hours each way, so don't try to say you don't have one close enough) and buy one. Better yet, buy a couple in case your friend/enemy/babysitter/accountant/co-worker/mailman/telephone repairman/step-cousin-in-law needs one too. Whoever invented this button deserves a huge bonus and a large raise for brightening up millions of people's lives with the simple three word phrase "that was easy".

For those of you not in the know, the Easy button is a large red button, attractive and friendly in a technologically keen way, sitting anywhere you might need it, that, when pressed, states in a matter-of-fact masculine voice, "that was easy". The button begs to be pressed, performs every time on time, and does so in a consistently cheerful manner. It's fun, it's functional and it's cheap humor therapy.

We were discussing the merits of the Easy button at work the other day when someone said, "boy, it's not very often you hear that phrase anymore. Everything is becoming more and more difficult." I told him, "you need a button. That's the whole point--stop seeing the difficulty in everything and embrace the easy tasks!" Any large, difficult task can be broken down into small steps--the more difficult the task, the more steps--but each time a small step is completed, it merits a pressing of the Easy button. Hence, the more difficult the task, the more times you get to hear "that was easy" so the easier it is! Everyone needs one of these things. Even if a task is truly difficult, once it's over, it's no longer difficult because it's completed. Time to press the button. Go ahead, it's free (the 4 AA batteries last a llloooonnnggg time). Press it twice. That was easy.

Whose Dictionary Are You Using?

I attended a seminar yesterday in which the facilitator used the word 'profusively' five times. We were updating our CPR training, and the question was: "if you happen upon a scene were a victim is bleeding profusively, what do you do?" I thought: before or after I correct his grammar? Oh, wait, bleeding is more important than made-up words. Then I thought: Incorrect syntax is preventable, correctable and curable. After performing CPR and saving the profusively bleeding victim's life, I can then offer some grammar lessons. I'm sure the victim would be grateful, or at least willing to listen out of a sense of guilt or courtesy. Next time the victim would bleed profusely and I wouldn't be distracted.

Another of my pet peeve made-up words is supposably. How did this happen? There's no ab! It's an ed. It's actually easier to pronounce it correctly, supposedly, than it is to replace ed with ab. I guess this one isn't technically a made-up word, it's just crippled by BPS, Bastardized Pronunciation Syndrome. It's a common affliction for sesquipedalian words.

Country Mice in the City

Tomorrow I embark on a journey to the city. Chicago! Named for a wild onion, it's the city of big shoulders and wind and it's my favorite major US city (I've been to NYC, LA, St Louis and Orlando, so those are the comps). My sister, daughter and I will stay just outside the city itself and take the train in every day as if we're commuting. We'll stroll the Mag Mile and State Street, take in a show at the Briar Street Theatre and eat lunch at Ed Debevic's. It's October so we will enjoy a color tour all the way there and back and we can leave our outer layers at home.

We'll stop at a Borders Books. This alone is worth the 8-hour drive, each way, so we can sit on the second floor drinking coffee in the window and watching people scurry by on the pavement below. We'll shop at Macy's. Macy's! And the fabulous Columbus Day Sale! Oh, to live in a place with stores. I'm also bringing three of my books to leave in various strategic locations for someone to pick up and read.

This, the eve of a trip to the city, makes me wonder what it would be like to live in an urban place. It seems glamorous from here, tucked into the woods where the only culture is the free karaoke performance at the bar. I'm sure I'd take in a play at least once a month and rarely eat dinner at the same place, cook less often than I do now (it's become my  least favorite chore) and buy fresh flowers from the corner stand regularly. I'd probably dress better--a Life Is Good T-shirt would not be considered dressy casual in a city--and I'd know all of the train schedules, which taxis are the fastest, and the shortest routes on the safest streets. I would be just one more anonymous soul trying to get through the day with no one asking me how I like my new job or if I've seen the new hairstyle of the girl at the gas station.

I'd miss the trees. And my routine: a five-minute, five-mile commute to work on a two-lane road canopied by maple trees much of the way, mine frequently the only vehicle on the entire route. I run out the door most mornings, my boots untied and coat half-on, turn up the radio to hear 5% of the news events occurring in the world, none of which impact our lives here, and which  my commute was longer so I could hear the rest of the story. I always see Mrs. Goetz in her window, watching me turn toward work, so she can later report to me what time I arrived every day last week. She's pretty accurate--if any local employers are considering time clocks, they should just hire her. She'd also be a reliable alibi corroborator if one had driven by her house at the time of the murder. She'd remember, down to the minute, what time she spied the vehicle and which direction it was headed.

But I digress. We are traveling to the city, it will be fabulous, then we will travel home and it will be even more fabulous for the brief interlude of urban sophistication. 

Authorial Connections

The internet certainly shrinks the world. I just received an email from author Deborah Clearman, who stumbled upon my Bookworms Anonymous website and wanted me to know she thinks the idea of Bookworms Anonymous is fabulous and she has just published a book, which she wants me to review.

I already ordered her book, Todos Santos, and look forward to reading it--check it out by clicking on the link here--the story sounds intriguing and I can't wait to start!

Reading is such a solitary pursuit, it's easy to forget to acknowledge the writer after enjoying a book. I've been trying to post more book reviews on amazon.com and contact more authors of works I've enjoyed because positive feedback is so energizing and motivating, I'm hoping the authors I contact will immediately return to the computer and start composing another book, bigger and even better than their last. Posting a review is also a way for the reader to connect back to the writer in a personal manner without much effort.

In this age of electronic communication, we should use it to forge new connections and give back a tiny bit to the authors who have affected our lives so profoundly (or even just affected our lives for an afternoon, allowing a brief escape and a good belly laugh).

So read on! Then, take a moment a post a quick review, even if you didn't purchase the book on Amazon.

Crazy Chutney Recipe

Jean served this absolutely fabulous chutney at our last Bookworms Anonymous meeting and I feel compelled to share it with the world:

Jean's Absolutely Fabulous Chutney

12 cups yellow squash
4 large onions
2 red peppers
2 green peppers
2 tsp salt
6 cups sugar (yes, 6 cups!)
2 1/2 cups white vinegar
1 TBLS mustard seed
3/4 tsp tumeric
1 TBLS celery seed
1 tsp black pepper

Peel (if necessary) and cut all veggies into small bite-sized pieces. Mix all ingredients together. Bring to boil and reduce heat; cook slowly for 20 minutes.

Seal in jars and immediately turn each jar upside down. Serve with everything. Makes 8 pints.

Jean served this alongside her fabulous smothered whitefish fillets, which were basically a bunch of pan-fried fillets layered in a casserole dish, then covered with gently cooked cherry tomato halves, garlic and Kalamata olives, with a few grinds of fresh black pepper. So good you'll fall off your chair.

UP Living

Some days it's easier to remember why we live here, and today was one of those days. Autumn is just peeking through, painting random leaves and gracing us with bright sunshine and cool, crisp days. The tourists are gone now so there's no traffic, no need to lock anything, and I can leave my purse in the truck without worrying whether it'll still be there when I return. The temperature is perfect for light activities, there's no wind and everything smells of earthy, rotting leaves. I spent the day designing five different electric services, driving from one beautiful hunting camp to the next, from the hardwoods to the rocky beach of Lake Huron.

Then I came home and sat on the porch, reading my book (remember, reading outside is an extreme sport) in the sun with a cup of coffee. Heaven.

Today was the kind of day I want to tuck into my back pocket and retrieve next February when we're buried beneath six feet of snow and the newscasters are advising us to stock up on supplies (every good Yooper is always stocked up on supplies, so this dire announcement usually doesn't inspire any action, just humor).