tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28467730825872223382024-03-05T05:05:10.303-05:00Sut Nam BonsaiKarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-6655602711821632662022-09-09T16:35:00.004-04:002023-01-13T09:31:54.001-05:00September - Seeking Flame<div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am now writing on the Substack platform, exploring daily creative habits in a public sphere. I would love it if you would join me there. Here's that link: <a href="https://karanorman.substack.com/">https://karanorman.substack.com/</a><br /><br />Come on <a href="https://karanorman.substack.com/">over</a>! <br />Kara<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">******<br />Whisking through breakfast today I thought: <i>I'm fine. Not great, but fine</i>, which reminds me of the title of this podcast <a href="https://ttfa.org/" target="_blank">Terrible, Thanks for Asking</a>, which is such a great title. It encapsulates how I've felt most of this year which is, <i>Wow,</i> <i>I'm not doing great. And that's okay! </i>Do I check out books for my children about "big feelings"? Yes. Do I learn from these books more than my kids? Probably. It's my firm belief that in parenting, we have the "privilege" to cycle through lessons we missed on our first trek through childhood, and it makes parenting a pretty wild ride. <br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg148ARrEvHvLktWMRPmKPFK3Sf8_oUlpBQLc6z4wTNxq3vg0fdVxyJ2jAyLWTLKkC6QALyFH9MGCbApoXgi4i44FUBPUd7fA7p5LqV2c2CVSiwt5CA51ZK5GsXF2VBgTsagdTa_P6yTamzRQfvdJicGH7IIg2DlwCcBZ1ug1VDjMIpxv9F2Mn1ScJpYg/s2816/IMG_3963.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg148ARrEvHvLktWMRPmKPFK3Sf8_oUlpBQLc6z4wTNxq3vg0fdVxyJ2jAyLWTLKkC6QALyFH9MGCbApoXgi4i44FUBPUd7fA7p5LqV2c2CVSiwt5CA51ZK5GsXF2VBgTsagdTa_P6yTamzRQfvdJicGH7IIg2DlwCcBZ1ug1VDjMIpxv9F2Mn1ScJpYg/w640-h480/IMG_3963.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EX8jz3i6C-xFQ-jzArdurHllLr2JK3PgvCZx2clj_Lp98XeHx8GCAADvXIai3opDcn3TApMdFajDzqlqkLei_h9S2V8fzpGvhMuHKwQt3omva7e5I_KlbYRv_pn05kkbhkEQi2SQF07UAsKjSMCbnFGtiuLC6YChCg6S8VW_QXFt1DWZrsWEnBCoTw/s2816/IMG_3966.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EX8jz3i6C-xFQ-jzArdurHllLr2JK3PgvCZx2clj_Lp98XeHx8GCAADvXIai3opDcn3TApMdFajDzqlqkLei_h9S2V8fzpGvhMuHKwQt3omva7e5I_KlbYRv_pn05kkbhkEQi2SQF07UAsKjSMCbnFGtiuLC6YChCg6S8VW_QXFt1DWZrsWEnBCoTw/w480-h640/IMG_3966.JPG" width="480" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I once heard <a href="http://www.samanthairby.com/" target="_blank">Samantha Irby</a> (beloved! all hail the queen!) say on Glennon Doyle's podcast that she didn't have kids because she knew she would be too exacting as the adult in the room (paraphrasing here) and I really related to that. Like, I only became aware of the gremlins in my closet when I became a mother. Sometimes one of my kids does something that angers me and my reaction seems to come out of nowhere. Also unnerving is the uncertainty of their actions. (It was worse when they were two or three, going from sweet, compliant, needy baby mode to I'm-gonna-color-all-over-your-writing-notebooks in one week, it seemed.) All this uncertainty has the potential to undo me some days. After eight years of parenting, I've got a better handle on how to regulate myself even when the kids are unregulated. (Hint: stay hydrated! eat food! listen to music . . .) I'm also not as slow to be like, <i>well, that was weird.</i> I can sometimes tenderly peel back whatever door the gremlins inside me just slammed and started throwing junk around behind, and ask them to say more about what they're feeling. <br /><br />Parenting is the most humbling thing I've ever done - a genuine writing practice could be a close second? or maybe just properly communicating with another human being?? - but I'm starting to find the humblings somewhat freeing. I mean, parts of it are crushing but also grounding. (It can also make writing an escape, which is nice, and vice versa.) These days I find myself thinking variations on a theme of, <i>Wow, I'm a pile of human rubble and that's okay.</i> Like, what a sweet pile of rubble, ya know? <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><p></p><span style="font-size: small;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXoS7qy-HOOmt0g5cusoS5CFyxn-i-6_1IuGh4EdUqrev1iXfsww8VIWv6tyI8dXdMK57mRZuOLuMHIoAAaGRpdaQaOA4PwDQJAtCQjZbtqL8hPhtMF5lnynEFih-w5ph2LORAe_vgQqgBSn1mOZsc29RdB_qDrCduk9YuoykPILUjtjrFYXcLFjztA/s2816/IMG_3980.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXoS7qy-HOOmt0g5cusoS5CFyxn-i-6_1IuGh4EdUqrev1iXfsww8VIWv6tyI8dXdMK57mRZuOLuMHIoAAaGRpdaQaOA4PwDQJAtCQjZbtqL8hPhtMF5lnynEFih-w5ph2LORAe_vgQqgBSn1mOZsc29RdB_qDrCduk9YuoykPILUjtjrFYXcLFjztA/w640-h480/IMG_3980.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWdqkLVzACEM4mu_R1BG4ezzZblHzXgHbazNnGAktwPonbweiFcAjVwElLih9uJzXED8nux7rufT4zMhAuD4KhGqUY6rg0r95KXOyT38iXvw3MZ1qGVD5R4rI5h8v02ly-o2wMJSzlDQXP1X_lEmqo1J2lOwhc3xMettaf4oyMe5TZnxULzHZC0j4Jg/s2816/IMG_3982.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKWdqkLVzACEM4mu_R1BG4ezzZblHzXgHbazNnGAktwPonbweiFcAjVwElLih9uJzXED8nux7rufT4zMhAuD4KhGqUY6rg0r95KXOyT38iXvw3MZ1qGVD5R4rI5h8v02ly-o2wMJSzlDQXP1X_lEmqo1J2lOwhc3xMettaf4oyMe5TZnxULzHZC0j4Jg/w480-h640/IMG_3982.JPG" width="480" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is probably perfect that skeletons came crashing out of the closet after a nineteen-hour brain surgery. Things I didn't want to look at about myself or my life were suddenly at the front door and windows (mixing metaphors here and also getting ready for Halloween?). It's also true that this winter I will turn 45. Fun fact: I consistently forget how old I am. People think I'm younger and I feel much older. Tim is also five years younger than me. It's safe to say time is wonky. Our souls are fish in a deep dark ocean and swim all over the map. So brain surgery + middle age = awakenings! Yay! And those have been so neat and tidy, like real life! <br /><br />Lolz, as <a href="https://www.ameliapmorris.com/" target="_blank">my friend Amelia</a> would say.<br /><br />I have been meditating on vulnerability A LOT. It is both tres Buddhist and tres Brene Brown to see that our vulnerabilities are also our greatest strengths. I originally started Sut Nam Bonsai to be an exploration of "all things heart." Here's <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2010/10/october-lighting-candles.html" target="_blank">that first post</a> (I still approve of the joke that this blog is <i>not</i> devoted to the band Heart). I find it hilarious how scandalized I was that I snapped at Tim over hanging a picture on the wall. We're still having that argument on the regular, both while hanging pictures and living life. You better believe after two kids I've said way worse to my partner now, too. <br /><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtGZdvfNc5qD6V3CNY62iiDzESqF2j5vqmC4bprnzL8QMJrdL0i6mSB8e5GNwTNjlNet8aZs0AQgxPtV8Nyozhaf349B-eSDm460OLztYWkfOtq74gBMTb3X4l5uHAQFsHK8iMnJ6h8pKFQFtICe5Q1PvTOhaRCrAzf3IlcOLddyhi9K1SxAR8d0QNw/s2816/IMG_3984.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtGZdvfNc5qD6V3CNY62iiDzESqF2j5vqmC4bprnzL8QMJrdL0i6mSB8e5GNwTNjlNet8aZs0AQgxPtV8Nyozhaf349B-eSDm460OLztYWkfOtq74gBMTb3X4l5uHAQFsHK8iMnJ6h8pKFQFtICe5Q1PvTOhaRCrAzf3IlcOLddyhi9K1SxAR8d0QNw/w640-h480/IMG_3984.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrRMCQH-V5GypyM5l6rVcvG5V2FGtrUOGdIiI7HK--aaUqKewwDR8odxsJyWAdzrt8E6UT182Vr6Vda3IF0EhVaQu2CPq4x0JUYMoCRRcxwLxP9F17mVt5UgNzx3COkhN8O3qj-Jnue1spQN8P2bzcTDNrsqsXYq4c0a845v8B-E2kc_QLq7245UJIw/s2816/IMG_3986.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrRMCQH-V5GypyM5l6rVcvG5V2FGtrUOGdIiI7HK--aaUqKewwDR8odxsJyWAdzrt8E6UT182Vr6Vda3IF0EhVaQu2CPq4x0JUYMoCRRcxwLxP9F17mVt5UgNzx3COkhN8O3qj-Jnue1spQN8P2bzcTDNrsqsXYq4c0a845v8B-E2kc_QLq7245UJIw/w480-h640/IMG_3986.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBZBk7BIzIm4Gn5pJtRVQXRziQkOg-4AjBgNMTbcVzFtIsf_-td4e2q29WOqyjbrATXEcdv1Ncx1Z-u_qj9P4p4lutuv0L3KRbzO-fFrRSn5D7RVU2uJAr60Q-I80yvTJ0iGXKCVvNS6RrE2-KkHPuqYww5qLkoFqnZjRPwnAkVkVBEiJl8ashwsHHA/s2816/IMG_3992.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifBZBk7BIzIm4Gn5pJtRVQXRziQkOg-4AjBgNMTbcVzFtIsf_-td4e2q29WOqyjbrATXEcdv1Ncx1Z-u_qj9P4p4lutuv0L3KRbzO-fFrRSn5D7RVU2uJAr60Q-I80yvTJ0iGXKCVvNS6RrE2-KkHPuqYww5qLkoFqnZjRPwnAkVkVBEiJl8ashwsHHA/w640-h480/IMG_3992.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Looking up my first post feels full circle, like: wow, my intentions are still the same. The seeds are still right there. <br /><br />A quick note about the name <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/p/about-this-blog.html" target="_blank">Sut Nam Bonsai</a>, which I go back and forth about, and a warning that this gets tedious fast. <i>Sat Nam</i> is a Sanskrit phrase fairly recognizable in the yoga community. I chose it in homage to my interests but don't recall intending to misspell the words. (I changed the "a" in Sat to a "u.") The word itself can sound like <i>suht</i>, but I'm pretty sure when I chose the name, I did that by accident. But the mistake got built into the URL. I realized the mistake months later, and when I did I had one of those visceral panics, like a nudity dream. <i>OMG I walked into school naked and everyone can see my flaws. I KNEW I was an idiot and now everyone else can see it, too!!</i> etc etc. I had a couple of weeks (and then years) like that, wondering if I should correct it. Every time I went to change it, however, I felt this pause, like, <i>actually, this encapsulates everything perfectly.</i> I am deeply interested in yoga and personal evolution and spiritual growth, but not all that interested in rule-following. (If you know me IRL, you will find this a gross understatement, lol.) <br /><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9mmPb3eIIOuvzqb7A5_hLIt5iUBeNPiCEYCKWUH-4NqfvmS_oakTZZ6pyngOLWKBrtZDD6PdA82qdNIMdplODbcnoaBnyfcT6D1A7f_qwuVbpwKn3Qt1kzCyVYLlbYWsV8pL9wGMsaRrxWFJdag0Tj5Mxl5WmX7XW2epY3uZMBrHZyDzVGHbTKgAJA/s2816/IMG_3842.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9mmPb3eIIOuvzqb7A5_hLIt5iUBeNPiCEYCKWUH-4NqfvmS_oakTZZ6pyngOLWKBrtZDD6PdA82qdNIMdplODbcnoaBnyfcT6D1A7f_qwuVbpwKn3Qt1kzCyVYLlbYWsV8pL9wGMsaRrxWFJdag0Tj5Mxl5WmX7XW2epY3uZMBrHZyDzVGHbTKgAJA/w640-h480/IMG_3842.JPG" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />It's like a design flaw built into the model: I'm interested in guides for better living, but am completely devoted to exploding them. Sometimes I feel bad about this facet of myself. Like, why can't I just <i>behave</i> and be more precise? I'm actually fanatically precise in LOTS of other ways (see commas in my fiction or when my kids ice cupcakes) but there is a big free-flowing part of me, and this is, IMHO, one of my more attractive features (if you're into it). I'm the person you call if you need permission to do something you're not "supposed" to do, something that really calls to you and scares you at the same time. <br /><br />So then I thought, yes, okay, the name Sut Nam Bonsai is perfect. I mean, perfectly imperfect. Wabi-sabi. And that's where I am today. Yet I often wonder if it's hard to pronounce and if that is a turn off. Is its shagginess appealing or non user-friendly? Does it house the kind of wiggle room I want out of life and art. or is it like a shrub I've let grow over my front door and half my friends can't find it when they come for tea?? <br /><br />So that's the name conundrum. Thanks for listening :) <br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking of listening, I heard a beautiful episode of <a href="http://wecandohardthingspodcast.com/" target="_blank">Glennon Doyle's podcast</a> featuring a man named <a href="https://www.carsontueller.com/" target="_blank">Carson Trueller</a> who took my breath away. I keep thinking about the episode: the vulnerability, the openness, and how kind Carson sounds, so I thought I'd share it <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/how-to-love-your-body-now-with-carson-tueller/id1564530722?i=1000571409609" target="_blank">here</a>. What he says about sex is so basic and necessary and yet so profound and I am here for it. <br /><br />I've also been thinking about Miriam Parker's great <a href="https://lithub.com/dear-sally-albright-40-is-only-the-beginning/" target="_blank">essay on Lit Hub</a> </span>about what Nora Ephron got wrong about your 40's. I went to school with Miriam, and her accomplishment of publishing a second novel recently called <i><a href="https://miriamparker.com/room-and-board-1" target="_blank">Room and Board</a></i> made me very happy. <br /><br />Did you see that <a href="https://www.littlebrown.com/titles/andrew-sean-greer/less-is-lost/9780316301398/" target="_blank"><i>Less Is Lost</i></a>, follow-up to the Pulitzer-winning novel <i>Less</i>, is coming out in eleven days? I am not generally hyped by pub dates, I get around to things when I get around to them, but I bolted upright when I saw this. I am absolutely <i>Less</i>-obsessed and would pose as <a href="https://www.andrewgreer.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Sean Greer</a>'s doormat if I could. <br /></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYQWmjGSUAcuALbGG6Jj0staSa5syQxPyh9wWTDma3jsQ1S37ZJ_BcXarTbhRImESBQDVexsunvn4fWtquGcIYd6L--60p93eqHxoGd3q5xyqxrvGcgBcC8Eslqmq0lbwf5oNk5mPJxNckJ95Cul_a4LmjZk4DYT8V_LqJ0WGdK9dJfXKagHEXs6u2g/s2816/IMG_3996.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYQWmjGSUAcuALbGG6Jj0staSa5syQxPyh9wWTDma3jsQ1S37ZJ_BcXarTbhRImESBQDVexsunvn4fWtquGcIYd6L--60p93eqHxoGd3q5xyqxrvGcgBcC8Eslqmq0lbwf5oNk5mPJxNckJ95Cul_a4LmjZk4DYT8V_LqJ0WGdK9dJfXKagHEXs6u2g/w480-h640/IMG_3996.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><div><p><span style="font-size: small;">Speaking of hems of garments, I was sad to hear the news about Queen Elizabeth's death, genuinely touched as if she were a relative. I blame Netflix, obviously - I could watch <i>The Crown</i> every night for the rest of my life - and while I know there are a thousand cogent anti-monarchy arguments, I had a moment contemplating what power and grace looks like on a woman, and how much dignity Elizabeth seemed to possess. <br /><br />Switching gears to humbler topics, ha, the title of this blog's first post was <i>October: Lighting Candles</i>. I still find it fitting for both my intentions and the spirit of fall, the season in which we find ourselves now. It occurs to me, unpacking this house, we don't have any decent candles. People sent them when I made the announcement that I had a brain tumor, which I loved because I needed those lights in the darkness. But I used them all and then some, and candles have been on several grocery lists I've made since moving. For various reasons, the need for them has been only partially satisfied. I've always loved them, used to make my family light them at the dinner table, ask my mom, but they take on new import with a five-year-old in the house, especially someone to whom the words <i>Don't do that</i> seem to mean <i>Actually, see if you can do that five times until my head explodes.</i> It's no longer romantic or desirable to light tall tapers on our wooden table. Hurricane candleholders, a hand-cuffed kid, and three fire-fighters standing by seem more appropriate now. <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7F2-PzObAdvv7yXrDwas4Bs445iVi41ZdftXzsm6qjHA90mqlt7M_aSe7BF5INmYlUuEJAAvvUYMqsLhdOnc8DGoh-pN4PJ-YaIO4NE9VbjV9yrV5XDPuATEI5eVZnX-o2dop1b6Gt8zfwh1Vqu_1k1SCrBhtfTaMrjK-P8dFQ3V4dOdZ2c9OfUP2w/s2816/IMG_3998.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7F2-PzObAdvv7yXrDwas4Bs445iVi41ZdftXzsm6qjHA90mqlt7M_aSe7BF5INmYlUuEJAAvvUYMqsLhdOnc8DGoh-pN4PJ-YaIO4NE9VbjV9yrV5XDPuATEI5eVZnX-o2dop1b6Gt8zfwh1Vqu_1k1SCrBhtfTaMrjK-P8dFQ3V4dOdZ2c9OfUP2w/w640-h480/IMG_3998.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;">So I'm trying to figure it out. And I guess that's the point of life? To keep asking the questions, digging in, being here? I mean, hopefully some of your questions are grander than "where should I buy my next candle . . ." I am really vibing this year on something I read in <a href="https://www.kellycorrigan.com" target="_blank">Kelly Corrigan</a>'s book <i>Tell Me More</i>, a line from Voltaire which she expertly lobbed into the end of one of her essays: <br /><br />“Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.”<br /><br />Heart emojis, Voltaire.<br /><br />XOXO<br /></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStfH0KA87EZr2Q2ylF7dHaa6VURsNXJ1i4gPyQGIJqVSoz1LHkRNweOgf5ondFZJ5-Ap8IV691p1OhXugPa5Fup2JDFfFYHEH0cnX-wjQeSs78N7NezPkNg8B5v89DlWsT1DvPkvQJ250a-E5c4ylpdYJZ4QtdQWaaZqevgdyKorE968dabtcRWevNQ/s2816/IMG_4005.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStfH0KA87EZr2Q2ylF7dHaa6VURsNXJ1i4gPyQGIJqVSoz1LHkRNweOgf5ondFZJ5-Ap8IV691p1OhXugPa5Fup2JDFfFYHEH0cnX-wjQeSs78N7NezPkNg8B5v89DlWsT1DvPkvQJ250a-E5c4ylpdYJZ4QtdQWaaZqevgdyKorE968dabtcRWevNQ/w640-h480/IMG_4005.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTBLd7blv7NVLRTp7UwDJGcezojHIxArEDqyrT67Fop43B_DPvRVvfPjUf3HCPv8zcg6RKg8fdAVI59XCDeNQrAz2oStAhPAret5eaQSfeNhz8oEyagyQCL_G_XuQ57hEJeI7YbWUuJbPjdNkJA3QxSwO__S031qT9fokXDqfIgigCfYk7XYiv0qRPIA/s2816/IMG_4010.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTBLd7blv7NVLRTp7UwDJGcezojHIxArEDqyrT67Fop43B_DPvRVvfPjUf3HCPv8zcg6RKg8fdAVI59XCDeNQrAz2oStAhPAret5eaQSfeNhz8oEyagyQCL_G_XuQ57hEJeI7YbWUuJbPjdNkJA3QxSwO__S031qT9fokXDqfIgigCfYk7XYiv0qRPIA/w640-h480/IMG_4010.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-65883121660760798512022-08-26T10:23:00.001-04:002023-01-13T09:36:07.189-05:00Rolling <p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Friends. We moved! It's been a longtime coming and still was a hard decision to make. It's been a messy process. Speaking of messy, we are surrounded by boxes. The kids have started school and I have spent too many hours getting over-the-door hangers for every door I see. I texted Tim a picture of a hanger that holds belts the other day. <i>Do you need one of these?</i> This is what my life has become and I'm fine with it. Insert intelligent analysis of free labor done by women for home and country! But also, there is real food for me in <i>chop wood, carry water</i> work.<i> (Wax on, wax off,</i> etc.) I also feel like creativity thrives in constraints, and I'm trying to realize this in my body, to not panic about being a mom of somewhat small kids with ambitions of my own. <br /><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4hFi13Ut1_F9GYAmUvnBSzPRyWkMcBSO_DggSvfRTI1gmLHskI6SPp-mOVdejILNAvPegAS4aENCRBsZrROJg0dkf9xI0Zg9BCzzosyOehkfK2eON2Gt521DxkzsREJmqT677jo8Fc6rbvBoJz7oyOXKPUQ6p5PHOaLvKUK5eUG-P8buQjlJBwEEiA/s2816/IMG_3359.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4hFi13Ut1_F9GYAmUvnBSzPRyWkMcBSO_DggSvfRTI1gmLHskI6SPp-mOVdejILNAvPegAS4aENCRBsZrROJg0dkf9xI0Zg9BCzzosyOehkfK2eON2Gt521DxkzsREJmqT677jo8Fc6rbvBoJz7oyOXKPUQ6p5PHOaLvKUK5eUG-P8buQjlJBwEEiA/w640-h480/IMG_3359.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I recently emailed a health update to family and friends. Traditionally I've been private about some of the details in my life (while also plastering photos of my kids on the internet) but something about this brain tumor has made me understand how much we are in this sordid mess together - this mess being life, of course, which is pretty heartbreaking. Of course I'm coming to see how much beauty is woven into heartbreak - you can't have one without the other. (If you'd like to read about my tumor diagnosis, I wrote about it <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2021/11/getting-there.html" target="_blank">here </a>and about my surgery <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2022/05/oh-hi-there.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) If we learn nothing else from COVID, I hope we learn how intrinsically connected we all are. I'm speaking to myself here, too, someone who always needs a reminder that I can't do everything myself, and don't need to. <br /><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzVyaTlFT_lBIuhaRNfwPOlNNBV3TUT8f2CD8hd1_Q_Td9UoeP_SbO7m2qA5FUbzFIzde6eE8ejxu8-oFVALAOuoPOXZgjF4TF-k_folePCld6P8cgJjbm0PgQzIbU0r3oKnehx39rpFzkbSTe9lTI9qDXk8slHeCMSGRguH8UGEzB185-_YSEo_vDg/s2816/IMG_3400.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzVyaTlFT_lBIuhaRNfwPOlNNBV3TUT8f2CD8hd1_Q_Td9UoeP_SbO7m2qA5FUbzFIzde6eE8ejxu8-oFVALAOuoPOXZgjF4TF-k_folePCld6P8cgJjbm0PgQzIbU0r3oKnehx39rpFzkbSTe9lTI9qDXk8slHeCMSGRguH8UGEzB185-_YSEo_vDg/w480-h640/IMG_3400.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZX8C6SJAKacmIDILeTqcb24Qp8PVw95Z4-ni1QduNP5uQAzOJFUwSdHT-ppny2_d79QzdcnssZUkF45hEuTXbmRPUTpeRIGMtLfJUinp-zBqobnobbtfXlL0OAO-w0SYnzP-AYE-OO1YWlgb6SNkJO3Mzhm9MVRnFXAx4dBMgmVm_O7NoLvmnOGb-g/s2816/IMG_3402.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ZX8C6SJAKacmIDILeTqcb24Qp8PVw95Z4-ni1QduNP5uQAzOJFUwSdHT-ppny2_d79QzdcnssZUkF45hEuTXbmRPUTpeRIGMtLfJUinp-zBqobnobbtfXlL0OAO-w0SYnzP-AYE-OO1YWlgb6SNkJO3Mzhm9MVRnFXAx4dBMgmVm_O7NoLvmnOGb-g/w480-h640/IMG_3402.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB_XwZARb6p8Y1urM7ypnFaameyJ-T_zvkIreEwoPGLf61a9pcSG4-ePCaaXz5y82_UFDfRyDW18k-6DbJLPj77OEhsJe8HeHQ47_kBCkTAdxelchxjlo8x1C2v1N8B6-xrQAb13yc_51zIqphXgfLJiKnV5WNAA8qfM26pd8EYqUQew3qvx1gnBjRw/s2816/IMG_3447.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIB_XwZARb6p8Y1urM7ypnFaameyJ-T_zvkIreEwoPGLf61a9pcSG4-ePCaaXz5y82_UFDfRyDW18k-6DbJLPj77OEhsJe8HeHQ47_kBCkTAdxelchxjlo8x1C2v1N8B6-xrQAb13yc_51zIqphXgfLJiKnV5WNAA8qfM26pd8EYqUQew3qvx1gnBjRw/w480-h640/IMG_3447.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbyK3-VQOvjCOw6a-yhreypbMUOCOJnrZDwoum0ov5gkx_j2nP_lXFnFJ7Ezl7iyeNGYi_7I_kqvcnuHd9iaUgmDnd1yl9Hb9vmxRBvh0KAareXYkX0Fc-TnTAfSYyX42naTRot1hxoQzsYtyoWXPGON_5f0slFVrIRlx-xRXHhWLLeTaJfoyVLYtNw/s2816/IMG_3465.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwbyK3-VQOvjCOw6a-yhreypbMUOCOJnrZDwoum0ov5gkx_j2nP_lXFnFJ7Ezl7iyeNGYi_7I_kqvcnuHd9iaUgmDnd1yl9Hb9vmxRBvh0KAareXYkX0Fc-TnTAfSYyX42naTRot1hxoQzsYtyoWXPGON_5f0slFVrIRlx-xRXHhWLLeTaJfoyVLYtNw/w640-h480/IMG_3465.JPG" width="640" /></a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I've been feeling an itch to catalogue here more. I'm afraid what this will mean - will the writing be unpolished? Will I bore people with unwelcome anecdotes about children? (Why is it so hard to talk about parenthood and/or caring for young people while the experience itself is so profoundly transformative???) <br /><br />In the past, I've been waiting to have things more together to share it with you. I think I've wanted to be entertaining or helpful or something. I think I've also wanted to be an impressive version of myself and . . . that version isn't coming! Lol. I might as well help myself by being present in my days and maybe sharing it with you? I'm not sure what form this will take. At first I was like, I'll do before and after photos of each room in our house! But while I'm obsessed with decorating interiors (I have never met a wall I didn't have an urge to paint or a throw pillow I didn't have an instant opinion on) I don't know how much I want to be influenced by what is or is not an "after" moment. I also really care about how a room <i>feels</i>, and feelings are hard to photograph which is why I'm a writer, not a fashion model. I'm not going to win prizes for all the floppy pants I wear (or will I??) but I can whine about sadness in an artful manner and that can win friends! Ha. To be honest, I think I have been more concerned about how artful I'm being or am not, and I'd rather focus on expression now both because it's a healthier way to operate and . . . it's a healthier way to operate. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlM-LURJ0hoySDN-e-nS-96EYUBXOFml_SAXyI7Ip2OLqcdrMBEaaMCt8P1YHkq4RWfszep6pSvWQ6MrrxkGcwDhi2pPi7lkYgn0_2TLrtLzMzbAD8peww8U9HfH9r68BZjjj4DyvJ93lLgaQd8N2jfiFp37M8GerMy1xALQA-fg2q7blZXHKB07-Mcg/s2816/IMG_3490.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlM-LURJ0hoySDN-e-nS-96EYUBXOFml_SAXyI7Ip2OLqcdrMBEaaMCt8P1YHkq4RWfszep6pSvWQ6MrrxkGcwDhi2pPi7lkYgn0_2TLrtLzMzbAD8peww8U9HfH9r68BZjjj4DyvJ93lLgaQd8N2jfiFp37M8GerMy1xALQA-fg2q7blZXHKB07-Mcg/w480-h640/IMG_3490.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJt1wC7uWWCv8pnC3AdGRUZxnzMFVBXIo1RyhoMmN5pQabEVueX5PEx5QhVqKRzx9IOaHjlMuPZezKNzQlCaYCoklqkvfp0eVh11CH4CvtyIXz7MQyjMixxi7rGV-lMyyZzUKBnUC5VJ_Gk6zkMrsy9dxRpLAX9hdskNv_KOscWR-2aydxyTWtrYMbw/s2816/IMG_3516.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJt1wC7uWWCv8pnC3AdGRUZxnzMFVBXIo1RyhoMmN5pQabEVueX5PEx5QhVqKRzx9IOaHjlMuPZezKNzQlCaYCoklqkvfp0eVh11CH4CvtyIXz7MQyjMixxi7rGV-lMyyZzUKBnUC5VJ_Gk6zkMrsy9dxRpLAX9hdskNv_KOscWR-2aydxyTWtrYMbw/w640-h480/IMG_3516.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-p71-MQ120H6LTVi2kEhndVWVXUoJoDj2pa58fZASB0DVAA4fJvzgpFM5fsPhcHToaPcyyqJ0EjuQdZAelM3qdQpXg6jtzksb1DjKfTk172hLy59JmxObWiTdmvRPSAMlWY08DlTiMXmip8H1t8t0jPNzZ7-ndwxxCQ7kRhl4mC32_5NVEJrZBjNJhQ/s2816/IMG_3523.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-p71-MQ120H6LTVi2kEhndVWVXUoJoDj2pa58fZASB0DVAA4fJvzgpFM5fsPhcHToaPcyyqJ0EjuQdZAelM3qdQpXg6jtzksb1DjKfTk172hLy59JmxObWiTdmvRPSAMlWY08DlTiMXmip8H1t8t0jPNzZ7-ndwxxCQ7kRhl4mC32_5NVEJrZBjNJhQ/w480-h640/IMG_3523.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmacJLGW5vY1Thgey7QCl568DXHvXkKxZoYpACKhjW4oIPpZitiqRbhNpIF1qE_p7Rb4gEOYukjGxr13jEKaXEVjxhRTeCKzgLO7gIaCCv0-3_x-Lquh-MsGsjuHmw8Ap5wBEM-BKBmUcoTkrj3yi5hGWipDuj3OgXobQjX0XkDaAftwVwlZjUlmIzXw/s2816/IMG_3613.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmacJLGW5vY1Thgey7QCl568DXHvXkKxZoYpACKhjW4oIPpZitiqRbhNpIF1qE_p7Rb4gEOYukjGxr13jEKaXEVjxhRTeCKzgLO7gIaCCv0-3_x-Lquh-MsGsjuHmw8Ap5wBEM-BKBmUcoTkrj3yi5hGWipDuj3OgXobQjX0XkDaAftwVwlZjUlmIzXw/w640-h480/IMG_3613.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLd2c3eYwZZAjPAwfSAjn8mySbzvNq2_QlIOsWliFs0GhVU8aQHzzxBXkXRC6LJyJtrW7T4xMP0PsQbnjvN_FPKp_Pmq0O1JDF8CXgQL5CQ_r3f5QJbdzuIrHP0y5o8XzUVdGJiH2wWaYZ7sbckrxB9PX3JjzZizw5XPwSR25SncaQNYm5IAHSuh8YA/s2816/IMG_3632.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLd2c3eYwZZAjPAwfSAjn8mySbzvNq2_QlIOsWliFs0GhVU8aQHzzxBXkXRC6LJyJtrW7T4xMP0PsQbnjvN_FPKp_Pmq0O1JDF8CXgQL5CQ_r3f5QJbdzuIrHP0y5o8XzUVdGJiH2wWaYZ7sbckrxB9PX3JjzZizw5XPwSR25SncaQNYm5IAHSuh8YA/w640-h480/IMG_3632.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I'd like to visit this space more frequently and perhaps less cohesively. Personal snippets, helpful quotes, etc. etc. I need writing for clarity and I could use some clarity these days! If you're picturing me sobbing behind a mound of moving boxes, you're not <i>not</i> correct. I'm joking but you get the idea. There is something deeply soothing to me about making things. I honestly believe creativity is the core of who we are. So, see you soon? <br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZupHLzL17cxy5QHRGQKV6jSCkPbMOmItCXnjlFmI7W8m8UPsu9FHFhb2BxV728lOd4ct_vPNSq8ooLQwX7KseIFY01vwv2vYARrttf6o5X5XKtHbll3NEvTS2LSZ7rLjPzFlL8RxQguBQOgcAARL5qMrI18gzHtVl_QdNKRmAElN5SGt8uF6ynAIM1w/s2816/IMG_3747.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZupHLzL17cxy5QHRGQKV6jSCkPbMOmItCXnjlFmI7W8m8UPsu9FHFhb2BxV728lOd4ct_vPNSq8ooLQwX7KseIFY01vwv2vYARrttf6o5X5XKtHbll3NEvTS2LSZ7rLjPzFlL8RxQguBQOgcAARL5qMrI18gzHtVl_QdNKRmAElN5SGt8uF6ynAIM1w/w640-h480/IMG_3747.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QLHPjDyXI3N2k7_XMYP1E5PygjcZFCbBFMrVuQDLndTK5oCfWVaw6feqVxU-airLumQ233js6E6jXCYjmtqONSauYBm7b2ldRddYBZqH0WMHMfnbtlvwFnvDbTMe4apl90HAisICv18UAKnhWaqS1FOdLMyDE-_Lm2pQrj_FvUr6PjaMFkozE7jtzQ/s2816/IMG_3774.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QLHPjDyXI3N2k7_XMYP1E5PygjcZFCbBFMrVuQDLndTK5oCfWVaw6feqVxU-airLumQ233js6E6jXCYjmtqONSauYBm7b2ldRddYBZqH0WMHMfnbtlvwFnvDbTMe4apl90HAisICv18UAKnhWaqS1FOdLMyDE-_Lm2pQrj_FvUr6PjaMFkozE7jtzQ/w640-h480/IMG_3774.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLaxjbfu4QkkDJ9cO5-2WTYxo4ErqMhIBdw3nRjntrVFcLY8k_l1a9pMH1kAbM6OBLqlzXNGkci0DGpE4y53a45JHNi9hLUFgwz5KBCadBSCxO8QlFNUuVHoeK8vAj5weS_BN0SSn83bU6jpdZvTjS4Hfw93SpeEl9t4xB6lwEDbXPYImyLytlwdXAA/s2816/IMG_3829.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYLaxjbfu4QkkDJ9cO5-2WTYxo4ErqMhIBdw3nRjntrVFcLY8k_l1a9pMH1kAbM6OBLqlzXNGkci0DGpE4y53a45JHNi9hLUFgwz5KBCadBSCxO8QlFNUuVHoeK8vAj5weS_BN0SSn83bU6jpdZvTjS4Hfw93SpeEl9t4xB6lwEDbXPYImyLytlwdXAA/w640-h480/IMG_3829.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My bedside is still piled
with books (my son once tried to join me on the bed and couldn’t rest
his head for all the volumes which he shoved aside with disgust. “Ugh!
Why are you reading so many BOOKS?” I said honestly didn’t know, they
just bring me joy.) Right now the piles tend toward theology; less
fiction, more narratives of grief and tales of healing. </span></span><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">[Reading Update: I just started <i>What Happens at Night</i> by Peter Cameron which <a href="https://www.ameliapmorris.com/" target="_blank">Amelia </a>gave me and it is beautiful. I'm also (still) trying to finish <i>Underworld</i>
by Don DeLillo which I started with a friend last year because we are
insane. It's like reading someone else's free-writes, snorting someone's
practice pages. It happened to get published but didn't necessarily
need to? I also don't hate it. It's just . . . <i>long</i>. I really
like the subplot about the mystery garbage / barge sailing around the
world looking for a place to land. It's DeLillo
at his best, a darkly comic mirror held up to our worst habits.]</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br clear="none" /></span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That’s the news from Lake Woebegone as we used to say before Garrison
Keillor disappointed us all. I don’t intend to update you on my every
dental cleaning, but I do want to acknowledge how much your support and
inquiries mean to me. I am thinking of you all and hope your summers have been
filled with sun and movement and what brings you joy. <br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">More soon. <br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga33Q_vLEBs4tDXTg54lSvfRcwPXB2xFdMCIfjB9I47Ck_0GPmMN0k8H9l3dKty-2f-EUarf1CTobtcVB9vYYOr9dP5vSBqVR5sFu3GCghF0LyrHE7uafSv3-c6doxzOg5UtmWgSO3MUv9slwSp-uywWW1ctv9zUamnS0D6tI5g7l4ioOUhUL9XpTPGQ/s2816/IMG_3931.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga33Q_vLEBs4tDXTg54lSvfRcwPXB2xFdMCIfjB9I47Ck_0GPmMN0k8H9l3dKty-2f-EUarf1CTobtcVB9vYYOr9dP5vSBqVR5sFu3GCghF0LyrHE7uafSv3-c6doxzOg5UtmWgSO3MUv9slwSp-uywWW1ctv9zUamnS0D6tI5g7l4ioOUhUL9XpTPGQ/w480-h640/IMG_3931.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXJDKmmFW_tesAw5WnypBkQVP8JpWam0f6FiXHyUy_tiyCEes1hlc0qjsGVTEecqT5HQOXvJ0zw8I0QuXr4OChKxawN2nMva_Z8t76GWsPshKf1qqjC7uYOfqlb1_W7uGRD5ykNgoosM28OMSYHcuBKCxKPpm72bslisCyQzqqA1hvROujGnEV3hhtw/s2816/IMG_3949.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXJDKmmFW_tesAw5WnypBkQVP8JpWam0f6FiXHyUy_tiyCEes1hlc0qjsGVTEecqT5HQOXvJ0zw8I0QuXr4OChKxawN2nMva_Z8t76GWsPshKf1qqjC7uYOfqlb1_W7uGRD5ykNgoosM28OMSYHcuBKCxKPpm72bslisCyQzqqA1hvROujGnEV3hhtw/w480-h640/IMG_3949.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-55597463352515583392022-05-03T14:25:00.000-04:002022-05-03T14:25:25.523-04:00Oh hi there<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH2sr5FVioqxiDUIb1_duharpLnG0OY819uRr7WnGWRGTJuroHJ8OOC3DelIINkwAGJCZ1OH5-GB5Atsi6dGkPP2jpBNGGf3mFfSoQd7EG-91MpJmkC-FKW3-6jq0foROl4vIdT5dB4Ex6j-UqMhHDXus_m3HQBu9-YAU3DXa71TkJUi0xfexZ00vsA/s2816/IMG_2530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisH2sr5FVioqxiDUIb1_duharpLnG0OY819uRr7WnGWRGTJuroHJ8OOC3DelIINkwAGJCZ1OH5-GB5Atsi6dGkPP2jpBNGGf3mFfSoQd7EG-91MpJmkC-FKW3-6jq0foROl4vIdT5dB4Ex6j-UqMhHDXus_m3HQBu9-YAU3DXa71TkJUi0xfexZ00vsA/w640-h480/IMG_2530.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8wW_xLak9ONp2VxjowVP176cQf28IRpxQPJ0YSL2az6mVjBcyCMdQK0DVgG7lYHGckZsEkfc6JTB34YWKakrydMFleXbdSbpqzR6E78ur0gIpY4XJY1urtMuMm2PmdlAGGQLt0DywK1ofSuPwnWqeS8w46RoleYT6W_eL6MF7jZv3pX93cupbHXEyw/s2816/IMG_2574.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8wW_xLak9ONp2VxjowVP176cQf28IRpxQPJ0YSL2az6mVjBcyCMdQK0DVgG7lYHGckZsEkfc6JTB34YWKakrydMFleXbdSbpqzR6E78ur0gIpY4XJY1urtMuMm2PmdlAGGQLt0DywK1ofSuPwnWqeS8w46RoleYT6W_eL6MF7jZv3pX93cupbHXEyw/w480-h640/IMG_2574.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTeL9Pi0oNIK4CXNTSIBg-R_PbQgoCDJB7Bl5oyBLkjORXPlj0M5o5KloY2xi8FWxrfmyC4X-52GYz_Fkp34Emt0cWu9-gWfGzGqNX6v8JlsjEm5TjxqH7YAliCTzo8o3j0Y2zN0TxlYo-i2q-RaI_0XAjUN1ZD3JuBHuMQgMA9MGtitWdYHoQcThxw/s2816/IMG_2576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTeL9Pi0oNIK4CXNTSIBg-R_PbQgoCDJB7Bl5oyBLkjORXPlj0M5o5KloY2xi8FWxrfmyC4X-52GYz_Fkp34Emt0cWu9-gWfGzGqNX6v8JlsjEm5TjxqH7YAliCTzo8o3j0Y2zN0TxlYo-i2q-RaI_0XAjUN1ZD3JuBHuMQgMA9MGtitWdYHoQcThxw/w640-h480/IMG_2576.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsG9a0tcC7RCVvFR0qPFk9nlRlkHQpTaoUovXpCBfKLH8vXtdlmFfL_NpfCdbfB8Rc6tjQ9iDOJNXZo0zVpt6DFRlatBxFl5C9lEKOH6Ga_F5uOr7l3zCx7bkp7kAQdj2nJFUexn2vbwq8n2xhYEVF4s_CfjSUwavJ5V1OPmcQPvcCQI9m4z71hw1JGw/s2816/IMG_2596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsG9a0tcC7RCVvFR0qPFk9nlRlkHQpTaoUovXpCBfKLH8vXtdlmFfL_NpfCdbfB8Rc6tjQ9iDOJNXZo0zVpt6DFRlatBxFl5C9lEKOH6Ga_F5uOr7l3zCx7bkp7kAQdj2nJFUexn2vbwq8n2xhYEVF4s_CfjSUwavJ5V1OPmcQPvcCQI9m4z71hw1JGw/w640-h480/IMG_2596.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgCNYLHnao_CYGDOlNzsk6_KSNTpCdoJ7n6bMOB5S030-GFZcIN57DcgRGJHcdpS_Z8HRrqPo9_vlWy1R65stFLXWNh7m2SAd8L0aplZNs55W1za6WzqBse2-kbgiuZFE8Xm-jgiXPMwrVTxbKB75OBVtO-bggEVNEHiexN9zoT4pD1nVN4kJj_WKIg/s2816/IMG_2657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgCNYLHnao_CYGDOlNzsk6_KSNTpCdoJ7n6bMOB5S030-GFZcIN57DcgRGJHcdpS_Z8HRrqPo9_vlWy1R65stFLXWNh7m2SAd8L0aplZNs55W1za6WzqBse2-kbgiuZFE8Xm-jgiXPMwrVTxbKB75OBVtO-bggEVNEHiexN9zoT4pD1nVN4kJj_WKIg/w640-h480/IMG_2657.JPG" width="640" /><br /><br /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Friends. I have been unsure how to re-enter this space.
It seems a little rude to drop "Got a brain tumor, see you soon!" on the
webs and not check back in. The surgery went great. They got 95%
percent of the thing, which was beautiful and absurd. My recovery has
been somewhat uneventful. Things are *quite* good, all things
considered, and I really mean that.<br /><br />At the same time, the healing
process in my experience is very slow and long and mysterious. A friend
of mine who went through a terrible thing said people give
you about six months, then they want you back to
normal. I don't quite feel that way - having brain surgery is sort of a
built-in <i>Back Off!</i> I'd like to meet the person who's like,
"What's your problem? Snap out of it!" after you get a metal plate in
your head. And, but, etc, etc, there is a lot on the surface of life
that I have snapped out of pretty quickly, which can sometimes be
difficult for everyone including me to remember what I've been through. (A week after getting out of the hospital, I went with Tim to
pick up the kids at school and got horrified looks. <i>What are you doing here?!</i> <i>You should be on your death bed!</i> they seemed to say.<i>)</i></span></span><br /></span><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWexbNjor2a89U3IYklovLh9RhNnrHcAy_gCVVwtGUF9qsIxj8LqtJ8aP-5nU31frQH1VGQ9KeAfldmduyPWMnC_BIGqhyTMan9Rt6UXriVcXx-5hk3h7AySJcHNhyxjPhTFWvj9ypZ_Z9-uknf1Rgble2D0oSBxENI8wpNyNWfwTANpK4Gj7WbT7_g/s2816/IMG_2685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkWexbNjor2a89U3IYklovLh9RhNnrHcAy_gCVVwtGUF9qsIxj8LqtJ8aP-5nU31frQH1VGQ9KeAfldmduyPWMnC_BIGqhyTMan9Rt6UXriVcXx-5hk3h7AySJcHNhyxjPhTFWvj9ypZ_Z9-uknf1Rgble2D0oSBxENI8wpNyNWfwTANpK4Gj7WbT7_g/w640-h480/IMG_2685.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sRH_aqIIPuRAaMp1FcmDtBbMmm1S-4G541RMqyG2hczgF7Q5nHZRkMpsJIrb54E07egbz6r4W0xFq5BO2UQi8gkLF44uXs-0ig6knbcYNZjZM493ed_neimxvS5v3HXvyImrN8-94FSpWHHM_pwgjNiGYhuxQHdQ3ijPO7IDhZ1fJYnw7dKbgDLnmg/s2816/IMG_2698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sRH_aqIIPuRAaMp1FcmDtBbMmm1S-4G541RMqyG2hczgF7Q5nHZRkMpsJIrb54E07egbz6r4W0xFq5BO2UQi8gkLF44uXs-0ig6knbcYNZjZM493ed_neimxvS5v3HXvyImrN8-94FSpWHHM_pwgjNiGYhuxQHdQ3ijPO7IDhZ1fJYnw7dKbgDLnmg/w480-h640/IMG_2698.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PA5WP2u0IbiI0QRIXvXDBDdeGy5w9FR9rJgu-8qFwb6JRtHFgs5_bvrkN8i3tqf-OKWrB6fDXBzGOv023DwBb55cOzYhMcTYNnxdxTPi7w37P9plVx1IMjlI61hbWVfFCVUUNf9Bn0q2CrgdG0oxTw-pFjquJ-QZsfSKuEFHkf4e-LJhMi9eDx5bfw/s2816/IMG_2742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PA5WP2u0IbiI0QRIXvXDBDdeGy5w9FR9rJgu-8qFwb6JRtHFgs5_bvrkN8i3tqf-OKWrB6fDXBzGOv023DwBb55cOzYhMcTYNnxdxTPi7w37P9plVx1IMjlI61hbWVfFCVUUNf9Bn0q2CrgdG0oxTw-pFjquJ-QZsfSKuEFHkf4e-LJhMi9eDx5bfw/w640-h480/IMG_2742.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuvtStzEywcdd5gBv4m-Q11VIb3RT2eRBz3iuyhBYooeHP64ORYAZ35smSTkAhSVHXHTa8Xnb0kuYoDdr1PSKH80Me3lzpf_gicQccTCMZ2GGk78v_hkVTfbDNn4ioVna1ej-Fg6HnTPbzbgtSFSKeeHrPbsmoZLFdZwPbR946KXryoYviTJ5OA0XsA/s2816/IMG_2766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPuvtStzEywcdd5gBv4m-Q11VIb3RT2eRBz3iuyhBYooeHP64ORYAZ35smSTkAhSVHXHTa8Xnb0kuYoDdr1PSKH80Me3lzpf_gicQccTCMZ2GGk78v_hkVTfbDNn4ioVna1ej-Fg6HnTPbzbgtSFSKeeHrPbsmoZLFdZwPbR946KXryoYviTJ5OA0XsA/w640-h480/IMG_2766.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9pN__NFYYMvdiwvpnKoEylI9-ZZn0icEeW_z6rf6rOwGQzDp7YLZPmOdsFrylmpPVTd0G5VaeXEdiYxQU1g0Cja1v1Sl478a5_TuCUG6y7VvTt3aHGXMnN8dVExY4gcAYlRMpMPyWqc9w2IocNWHEkVn0F0tGX38ccp-hZ42QVFF0pU59COzuHEkOw/s2816/IMG_2775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC9pN__NFYYMvdiwvpnKoEylI9-ZZn0icEeW_z6rf6rOwGQzDp7YLZPmOdsFrylmpPVTd0G5VaeXEdiYxQU1g0Cja1v1Sl478a5_TuCUG6y7VvTt3aHGXMnN8dVExY4gcAYlRMpMPyWqc9w2IocNWHEkVn0F0tGX38ccp-hZ42QVFF0pU59COzuHEkOw/w480-h640/IMG_2775.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySl3AmmAUSpAG1BV6kMxnlBbNQmWKOovNfJXpihLhm9I29vMIRFNx6vlSiNxDy-g2wkUuzylJFbV98gcXU41Kxgdf-KNT9TYbrnRYxhaOFtru1iH2NHHs0mplyorPUlIBjhxiJUzgM2sMWdwAv2dqgmLCGm1bxVA_miDLmDExr6VKwr297D2-BpdOhg/s2816/IMG_2783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySl3AmmAUSpAG1BV6kMxnlBbNQmWKOovNfJXpihLhm9I29vMIRFNx6vlSiNxDy-g2wkUuzylJFbV98gcXU41Kxgdf-KNT9TYbrnRYxhaOFtru1iH2NHHs0mplyorPUlIBjhxiJUzgM2sMWdwAv2dqgmLCGm1bxVA_miDLmDExr6VKwr297D2-BpdOhg/w480-h640/IMG_2783.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNZXq6mo-xKNx3TV3OF41H8dpe10MoHbBAixeWNLkJq6jRv8CG3z-DyC72newoeLU-8Eg4a9w0__Oh6eCKFolSRUpcFbXz-Pjw4V0yzxHoL0V8TuV1_BDpAQRelJfFXx0aMVQfc2r2-uesAvued8NLhvmJ433uaCAqcHCZZnGt0KGlJQyv0I1pW2KVg/s2816/IMG_2800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYNZXq6mo-xKNx3TV3OF41H8dpe10MoHbBAixeWNLkJq6jRv8CG3z-DyC72newoeLU-8Eg4a9w0__Oh6eCKFolSRUpcFbXz-Pjw4V0yzxHoL0V8TuV1_BDpAQRelJfFXx0aMVQfc2r2-uesAvued8NLhvmJ433uaCAqcHCZZnGt0KGlJQyv0I1pW2KVg/w640-h480/IMG_2800.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaZMO4Jpg3roIwLia9qISOsIRH948ki7LpPPqts7_MwYMmY3YhRpf6KJUfVFDkvIvjREv7bDIIAjg4ln-J2uppCqJBhj9qM2jnSeWmtHHXu836rnHJRazLbfELu-ETmqgG7gReAFrl_163MPqcTscuuk1v0tXAPTeczmkUSFNfLL60SCnxxXVrRedsQ/s2816/IMG_2818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaZMO4Jpg3roIwLia9qISOsIRH948ki7LpPPqts7_MwYMmY3YhRpf6KJUfVFDkvIvjREv7bDIIAjg4ln-J2uppCqJBhj9qM2jnSeWmtHHXu836rnHJRazLbfELu-ETmqgG7gReAFrl_163MPqcTscuuk1v0tXAPTeczmkUSFNfLL60SCnxxXVrRedsQ/w480-h640/IMG_2818.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's so much to recount and I am filtering so many
things through this experience, some quite banal. I still spend a lot of time resting and walking and doing whatever I want. I don't really feel like breaking down <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2021/11/getting-there.html">my vestibular schwannoma</a> (my band name, like My Morning Jacket) or its medical effects in this space, but my balance is back to about 85% percent. I still regularly run into the trash can
from all angles but in fairness to me, that thing pulls out of a special nook in the
kitchen and Ellis also slams into it frequently. He's running in to share his
fabulous and surprising announcements -"Hey, look!" ... "Did you
know...?" ... etc etc - so much daily abundance and instantaneous
miracles - and whack, a new little bruise.<br /><br />Frankly, I am not sure how to talk about what I've been through yet (not unlike</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Chris Rock after Will Smith gave him that slap. Wink!)</span>. I'm not shy about what I've been through, but I also feel like, <i>wow, that's a lot to summarize</i>.
I have had some new ideas about how to move forward with this space. In some ways,
I'd like it to be more of a reflection on the challenges of life. Then
I'm like, <i>wow, that sounds like a lot of work.</i><br /></span><br />In short, I don't know what I want and I'm sitting in a
lot of uncertainty. However, that's pretty much always been my cozy spot. One
of the big reliefs I felt after my diagnosis was that certain life
choices - which may have appeared a little crazy but always
helped me feel like <i>myself -</i> now feel doubly blessed. If the tumor
had been malignant, this whole journey would have a WAY different
flavor, but I'm not sure how many regrets I'd have. Yet something like this can't help but influence how I move forward. I'm asking myself lately, what really matters? what do I really need? </span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9exSzSfWRpfdVcHgqa9oMIygksu9bc9zJwDmUyks0yMAwqHwVp4n6-Blh8A-jje5MONcCkai2vMC_up2bhaIwKVBTbZWLyRjR4opputexCwZPIQ6NPf8H61JskMfFvpdoQ6mPJwqtZ8FdRNnVMgbfXIiXc1UEBVgn-dc3f8jXefYfFNc68oCPQYzQ9A/s2816/IMG_2862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9exSzSfWRpfdVcHgqa9oMIygksu9bc9zJwDmUyks0yMAwqHwVp4n6-Blh8A-jje5MONcCkai2vMC_up2bhaIwKVBTbZWLyRjR4opputexCwZPIQ6NPf8H61JskMfFvpdoQ6mPJwqtZ8FdRNnVMgbfXIiXc1UEBVgn-dc3f8jXefYfFNc68oCPQYzQ9A/w480-h640/IMG_2862.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">One of the somewhat devastating things about having a brain tumor is how inherently <i>unfunny</i>
the topic is. When I was diagnosed, it felt like one of my biggest
defense mechanisms was whisked away. It was hard to be the barer of the
news<i>, I have a brain tumor!</i> I'm not out of the woods yet (fun
fact: no one is?) but the surgery was majorly successful. From here, as we all do, I
see what happens. Does the remaining bit grow back? Does it sit tight? What do I do now? What changes, if any, do I make? <br /><br />I return again and
again to how truthful religious texts I've studied throughout my
life have been. (Not necessarily the religious people, lol. Human
foibles are real, including my own.) Across traditions, I have welcomed
teachings on impermanence and acceptance and trust in ethereal things,
and I now find those teachings bedrocks of my sanity. It's not that
life is or was ever easy - even without medical crises of this size - but I come
back to these teachings now, in what has turned out to be not a dress rehearsal for
me. </span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-fBU_njd7LYLBLNp65cqW-srJvtu0Rcy2ISl0MsyXZl0Nyxu34Bf19UzqfcOJ-t7rlofLnyUosNGFbI_EbLkD2XqDLX7cQq2kwjFqgdIjNJZ3MJ7NRRbUdcVqLWtPgn_J5RNr9ybev1NNV3KiZf5TLTlYJ6G2UOFV3cCru2lrR-DHliWAyxwLWxL_Q/s2816/IMG_2900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv-fBU_njd7LYLBLNp65cqW-srJvtu0Rcy2ISl0MsyXZl0Nyxu34Bf19UzqfcOJ-t7rlofLnyUosNGFbI_EbLkD2XqDLX7cQq2kwjFqgdIjNJZ3MJ7NRRbUdcVqLWtPgn_J5RNr9ybev1NNV3KiZf5TLTlYJ6G2UOFV3cCru2lrR-DHliWAyxwLWxL_Q/w480-h640/IMG_2900.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_-9JcIM27yBHYDigV4XqL3Us1ERlTmIxcaqFSiwvC3Ee8Qb14IHvll7pzTmcA1HKc7W3LUvArBGkcxQrj3mQ0kEWFDaSGmzr25rrjXfuwTcGR_ETCh-uoIh6EWh2vHMcJCt7tlga2qhbwoDenO7RU-SYM8cvNk7QWHDu7UkmRlBtxMT6EWmMPsrIQg/s2816/IMG_2926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_-9JcIM27yBHYDigV4XqL3Us1ERlTmIxcaqFSiwvC3Ee8Qb14IHvll7pzTmcA1HKc7W3LUvArBGkcxQrj3mQ0kEWFDaSGmzr25rrjXfuwTcGR_ETCh-uoIh6EWh2vHMcJCt7tlga2qhbwoDenO7RU-SYM8cvNk7QWHDu7UkmRlBtxMT6EWmMPsrIQg/w480-h640/IMG_2926.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16J8xgGIfiTPFswQBjRfKESloLWuuNRN0-QLtvULC_lBi0FKEbNbtjUbYFz5u97FavJtAyYE2R6yZzDxofMPJEXSzq5x_Ucn6r0casFHXKfOyDYgQKiPF_MDQTzQfEhYZ0TziMln6mYZW2iPFdddhrbpgcIUbIBDqjSvjtnOS9grKrg6xRyK1f30OMA/s2816/IMG_2978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh16J8xgGIfiTPFswQBjRfKESloLWuuNRN0-QLtvULC_lBi0FKEbNbtjUbYFz5u97FavJtAyYE2R6yZzDxofMPJEXSzq5x_Ucn6r0casFHXKfOyDYgQKiPF_MDQTzQfEhYZ0TziMln6mYZW2iPFdddhrbpgcIUbIBDqjSvjtnOS9grKrg6xRyK1f30OMA/w480-h640/IMG_2978.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: small;">Here's one from Pema Chodron in her book <i>When Things Fall Apart,</i> which is a comically dramatic title that sums up not only when sh*t gets real but also how a standard Tuesday can go awry: <br /><br />"We
don't deserve resolution; we deserve something better than that. We
deserve our birthright, which is the middle way, an open state of mind
that can relax with paradox and ambiguity." <br /><br />This winter, I found
myself saying the following to my friend: "It can be useful to think
about death every day." She laughed which I appreciated because it's
both true and delightful. The gift of a tumor is its holographic
skeleton behind your days? Maybe. Having a brain tumor has,
unfortunately, given a little gravitas to the things I've been trusting
all along. Did I manifest this tumor as the ultimate practice for
myself? I don't think so, but it does feel like I've been training for
this moment for awhile.<br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQa-7JpRYeJd6UVaH7ronrfo0AZYMQtOhSeY7WAq8Y7Clc3uk4jNOb-M5RpEWsWNfSx1xKrAzjFG9P99tqBh5GsqotKYAvqCY0KwrrPnD1WlO3vrAe5TeRFRXBTOB092M4mbIvHIMQlctAP9d7R3q0WT5UqlZQggz3Jks0MgjTs7E-kF0JQWlZACLAQA/s2816/IMG_3003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQa-7JpRYeJd6UVaH7ronrfo0AZYMQtOhSeY7WAq8Y7Clc3uk4jNOb-M5RpEWsWNfSx1xKrAzjFG9P99tqBh5GsqotKYAvqCY0KwrrPnD1WlO3vrAe5TeRFRXBTOB092M4mbIvHIMQlctAP9d7R3q0WT5UqlZQggz3Jks0MgjTs7E-kF0JQWlZACLAQA/w480-h640/IMG_3003.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;">And now, for funsies and the strong of heart, I am going to display before
and after photos of my incision. The scar has faded even more than when
these photos were taken in December. Do I feel like a Bad-A Mofo?
Absolutely.<br /></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLmICYqGjXYAd3Uf8h1gpyl_GcyAUzbuc-IZWZAHEMnVUeJtVh50YLq_Ko1EzFCZqzaicCz1Hu47wQ_zb9tShE_qevF_XthmUrsD8qH0pQ0Xk0RyW2gPbhMQ4tEInq1kwMxFxjiQlomoxzRtv_1jw3yX2U-ZKcBvMkvrSi3_N1lv-6WJJ3XgC-UDr0g/s2816/Staples.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLmICYqGjXYAd3Uf8h1gpyl_GcyAUzbuc-IZWZAHEMnVUeJtVh50YLq_Ko1EzFCZqzaicCz1Hu47wQ_zb9tShE_qevF_XthmUrsD8qH0pQ0Xk0RyW2gPbhMQ4tEInq1kwMxFxjiQlomoxzRtv_1jw3yX2U-ZKcBvMkvrSi3_N1lv-6WJJ3XgC-UDr0g/w480-h640/Staples.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2MyD_XyudWxTPZ-7otkgpdbgB2RovpU69bt8-_CDRoCulMFANrTtjIqNM8eW3uLnvLj1AAQdGwVHYsAepQgVHHrRCDeSm7mwt8BRX1_iaeSjxQS8Oi8F-PPh8FGkj5_ivdS5SSdHFpuytcEVn13bBK6yeMhzBk4jtSI72kJPTDIf3utWHVuihtf_jg/s2816/After.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2MyD_XyudWxTPZ-7otkgpdbgB2RovpU69bt8-_CDRoCulMFANrTtjIqNM8eW3uLnvLj1AAQdGwVHYsAepQgVHHrRCDeSm7mwt8BRX1_iaeSjxQS8Oi8F-PPh8FGkj5_ivdS5SSdHFpuytcEVn13bBK6yeMhzBk4jtSI72kJPTDIf3utWHVuihtf_jg/w480-h640/After.jpeg" width="480" /></a></p><p><br /><span style="font-size: small;">So far, my physical health is holding strong but it is fair to say I'm having several existential crises: first as a mother rediscovering the gifts of being here to
care for my kids and also as an artist. How do you say the meaningful
thing? When do you share and when do you study something further, listening to its secrets? Where does humor deflect and
where does it illuminate? I am pondering these questions, along with the
perennial one of what's for dinner. </span><span style="font-size: small;">In some ways I am right where
I've always been, but the rooms look a little different now. <br /><br />XOXOXO</span><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pJG2AlVRAGqrB1o8Kw7C_XA5E549Sk3LuT2mdAFYfzEQb6v2EutfZHaY15PiQrtSDxc69u3lZDfFmcitxVwkSk2hGEOyE2VO1ADSTk-y5cTOKLG9UUpi7vBx3iJKJB0rI3KNMZv45oPCw0puq_wg4D_kAu74sEoQOUrZffRIb-6Ut3fUaKN32ikTOQ/s2816/IMG_3041.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pJG2AlVRAGqrB1o8Kw7C_XA5E549Sk3LuT2mdAFYfzEQb6v2EutfZHaY15PiQrtSDxc69u3lZDfFmcitxVwkSk2hGEOyE2VO1ADSTk-y5cTOKLG9UUpi7vBx3iJKJB0rI3KNMZv45oPCw0puq_wg4D_kAu74sEoQOUrZffRIb-6Ut3fUaKN32ikTOQ/w640-h480/IMG_3041.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eQzXqqgDFjyVBKUHeOTHFL-ahcAj1nmp30OWnAidR6HomYV-8cZwLzmFLxtTy1fYUWcCcNlo2x_GCfeW-DrZwHbTDqKRhxcd3gq1YkCZgB2xspvQGpmfkTnGsAwa5G7acj1NKvGkP99VegJBcHxLlQxJBhhrEOik__QDgkjE3MEV3QS6iTi903g_SA/s2816/IMG_3111.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_eQzXqqgDFjyVBKUHeOTHFL-ahcAj1nmp30OWnAidR6HomYV-8cZwLzmFLxtTy1fYUWcCcNlo2x_GCfeW-DrZwHbTDqKRhxcd3gq1YkCZgB2xspvQGpmfkTnGsAwa5G7acj1NKvGkP99VegJBcHxLlQxJBhhrEOik__QDgkjE3MEV3QS6iTi903g_SA/w480-h640/IMG_3111.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KzWkK8KvqbUZe5xlcQeHShQH8DCC-2BObrM65T8gMsZqgAARsyqpE5XeilQ2keaZ-lNEIU3hySdcBg-J0jMiuE1QY2-D0GaqEoJks1QDJ3uN6Zw_qgg4F4vxt8WooBOQLKKkJHRfjqyEKYWaM_9MXms4DDoCCDsKoUhYb4iuvRSRLUraXhxI2kDU9w/s2816/IMG_3113.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2816" data-original-width="2112" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5KzWkK8KvqbUZe5xlcQeHShQH8DCC-2BObrM65T8gMsZqgAARsyqpE5XeilQ2keaZ-lNEIU3hySdcBg-J0jMiuE1QY2-D0GaqEoJks1QDJ3uN6Zw_qgg4F4vxt8WooBOQLKKkJHRfjqyEKYWaM_9MXms4DDoCCDsKoUhYb4iuvRSRLUraXhxI2kDU9w/w480-h640/IMG_3113.JPG" width="480" /><br /><br /></a></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-81350998524105440602021-11-21T11:16:00.000-05:002021-11-21T11:16:31.941-05:00Getting There<p><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The other day, Ellis
was ready for school an hour before we needed to leave. He sat on the
couch with a tray on his belly, crayon at the ready for entertainment,
and he watched the digital clock. "We're getting there!" he said
confidently, a marvelous statement of fact. Yes, I agreed, we're
certainly getting there.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2P6332ZR5lkpwe4AQkTO8l6ca4yIEUFvfxzpScBM5-E2oVXkN-jmMtk04WHsezORnWA-TY99Fe1fSbcb3gvYLP91d9AjGtoSKaNd0Qw41JO_gf3qNKjffC-F5qdKoV-UCRXdWt_gdYYX/s2048/IMG_1722.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2P6332ZR5lkpwe4AQkTO8l6ca4yIEUFvfxzpScBM5-E2oVXkN-jmMtk04WHsezORnWA-TY99Fe1fSbcb3gvYLP91d9AjGtoSKaNd0Qw41JO_gf3qNKjffC-F5qdKoV-UCRXdWt_gdYYX/w480-h640/IMG_1722.JPG" width="480" /><br /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpjIaSAJPb9ETWNfnyoyNelIsFE-WdzEXeWRNZPi0nYEPGWY9OmSSjFp7l7wg3MvWUdVJwj89K9f1_OwPnE4y8m0Cw5iDfNIovqxQGb_8paodiTMuBVe9Us3c8iKFRdC0Uk4oXOMCLaJg/s2048/IMG_1734.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpjIaSAJPb9ETWNfnyoyNelIsFE-WdzEXeWRNZPi0nYEPGWY9OmSSjFp7l7wg3MvWUdVJwj89K9f1_OwPnE4y8m0Cw5iDfNIovqxQGb_8paodiTMuBVe9Us3c8iKFRdC0Uk4oXOMCLaJg/w640-h480/IMG_1734.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNF9_6bWoWbnuZNRny7Ywz2MtdyUcWyZbac4lLsr9HTgzDCm4IaBBBNOEu7NwOBffLlqlJ36YVWVHj4iaucbtN3_GKR728RN1glivPLUgb2Q91rKC0NXsGJHtMSL2M7u_f570vObZ_b-a/s2048/IMG_1737.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFNF9_6bWoWbnuZNRny7Ywz2MtdyUcWyZbac4lLsr9HTgzDCm4IaBBBNOEu7NwOBffLlqlJ36YVWVHj4iaucbtN3_GKR728RN1glivPLUgb2Q91rKC0NXsGJHtMSL2M7u_f570vObZ_b-a/w640-h480/IMG_1737.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcx_qDs8L6t2GfU3YNLRCuQ39mVbfVN9OZnuNQ3DhVOBa7UwgrdZ3ygdqMRtha4NLF4KU_l18q3mGSkrduPh8I9mW5JFa2hSXPEkWgijh5F6s0lPFVLNDi3BNk_qaez3EZ0XSh3IEaSqx/s2048/IMG_1749.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcx_qDs8L6t2GfU3YNLRCuQ39mVbfVN9OZnuNQ3DhVOBa7UwgrdZ3ygdqMRtha4NLF4KU_l18q3mGSkrduPh8I9mW5JFa2hSXPEkWgijh5F6s0lPFVLNDi3BNk_qaez3EZ0XSh3IEaSqx/w640-h480/IMG_1749.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />All summer, I worked on some essays and was deep in the books. As we got out of doors and into the sun, blogging was not something I felt the need to do. Then, in September, I was diagnosed with a benign brain
tumor. "Are we writing about brain tumors on the internet?" I asked a friend. "Yes," she wrote back. "We are." <br /><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4E3tuNCrzQhyP6qIRkxc4dMAv2EYJuP6NvTvr3dmSvTyqNocKod1ex83SVHJmkniUogtkKLyIIgQBTIkyR2KmY7ljJE8VomL-GUL36GDf614CXgj5DwX7n6jvE3IUQMmBLDOeI-8iaFM/s2048/IMG_1780.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt4E3tuNCrzQhyP6qIRkxc4dMAv2EYJuP6NvTvr3dmSvTyqNocKod1ex83SVHJmkniUogtkKLyIIgQBTIkyR2KmY7ljJE8VomL-GUL36GDf614CXgj5DwX7n6jvE3IUQMmBLDOeI-8iaFM/w640-h480/IMG_1780.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><br />I had had some hearing loss, so I went
to an ENT, who ordered an MRI. At the end of the summer, I took the test. As they were taking me out of the tube, a technician came and put me back in. As he explained that the doctor just wanted a few more tests, I knew then that they had seen something. After a few weeks of voicemails and computer messages and hold calls, I learned from some very kind people that I had a benign tumor on my
vestibular nerve. It is too big to radiate and so odd to contemplate. My feelings about it change by the week but, mostly, I just want it removed. It is close to my facial
nerve, a sobering fact of which the doctors have been uber-conscious. I have surgery scheduled to remove it in December and have been told that this nerve is at the top of their concerns.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's safe to say that my sense of security has been shaken, but I really believe that this is a good thing. Books by Buddhist teachers have been piled on my shelves, which I find helpful for life in general--and especially parenting. A diagnosis like this, I realized quickly, is difficult to joke your way through. Instead, I've tried to be with the gravity as compassionately as possible, accepting all that arrives. <br /><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqS0OcX2v9oqlD6ejfwRFBpX9Xk-_hbbDHLGriy2U4ON76m6Im8vJFurkv25Ar1QUoNbFhoTDLu9O9nseQceLBVTuUVGTKFEqhvBjopWkbuD1CYs5Jm9a2EIChPJgS-Y0vM5GBzro0j3K/s2048/IMG_1782.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqS0OcX2v9oqlD6ejfwRFBpX9Xk-_hbbDHLGriy2U4ON76m6Im8vJFurkv25Ar1QUoNbFhoTDLu9O9nseQceLBVTuUVGTKFEqhvBjopWkbuD1CYs5Jm9a2EIChPJgS-Y0vM5GBzro0j3K/w640-h480/IMG_1782.JPG" width="640" /><br /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqz8Cg5jqL0pkqk6SdGNFFuPfqz-8T-yDxWvQstt3dVwuyv6wgyKI8VJ7C1CzvVDoaxBjYVPGYgnrTsb4CH2Oal15NaMdCmW8bWdI7S9DMSk9jT0tdC3lkWUFcc96zDAhC0qwr3Nc4e6P/s2048/IMG_1794.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidqz8Cg5jqL0pkqk6SdGNFFuPfqz-8T-yDxWvQstt3dVwuyv6wgyKI8VJ7C1CzvVDoaxBjYVPGYgnrTsb4CH2Oal15NaMdCmW8bWdI7S9DMSk9jT0tdC3lkWUFcc96zDAhC0qwr3Nc4e6P/w480-h640/IMG_1794.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLZ1feSInX9o5akIu5l7uN7AoPNfo_YnN4_0E6NF9eNBFw6BHl68CWveapblEkZmLX6aU9sHUk57oZ59C2biF5XSH-0XaTD5S0ej4GmqariNE_8pmh3HzT1XRLmlI8875YpzI0kmrgqyS/s2048/IMG_1816.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLZ1feSInX9o5akIu5l7uN7AoPNfo_YnN4_0E6NF9eNBFw6BHl68CWveapblEkZmLX6aU9sHUk57oZ59C2biF5XSH-0XaTD5S0ej4GmqariNE_8pmh3HzT1XRLmlI8875YpzI0kmrgqyS/w640-h480/IMG_1816.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpCuQGQu_ORWtjNQliDVU0Fd_VBafNTdmvuQ8_9e7zXlIgTEMusaZJxn07zN7GzKgEVTAo3mJEaRT0Q69e3zaHkuJOh8jRw2uIyKlUf5xAxrRm3CjW72P-efHMpEgyhIvd5f4Dihyphenhyphenx9X4/s2048/IMG_1836.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpCuQGQu_ORWtjNQliDVU0Fd_VBafNTdmvuQ8_9e7zXlIgTEMusaZJxn07zN7GzKgEVTAo3mJEaRT0Q69e3zaHkuJOh8jRw2uIyKlUf5xAxrRm3CjW72P-efHMpEgyhIvd5f4Dihyphenhyphenx9X4/w640-h480/IMG_1836.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span></span><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
was going to write a little post but instead I think I'll just list the
art I've waded through all these months that I've been absent. I bathed
myself in <i>Brideshead Revisited</i> this spring (hello, <a href="https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/evelyn-waugh/brideshead-revisited/9780316216456/" target="_blank">outstanding turquoise cover</a>). I read Julie Klam's <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=Julie+Klam+book&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwi_mcmH2Kn0AhUGPK0KHTZrDoAQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=Julie+Klam+book&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQAzIECAAQGDoECAAQQzoICAAQsQMQgwE6BQgAEIAEOggIABCABBCxAzoLCAAQgAQQsQMQgwE6BwgAELEDEEM6BAgAEB5Q8QhYsipgvi1oAXAAeACAAZwBiAH0DpIBBDAuMTeYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=mVqaYf_oJIb4tAW21rmACA&bih=615&biw=1366&client=firefox-b-1-d#imgrc=ePB7Vz75p-ebuM" target="_blank">latest </a>and have Ann Patchett's <a href="https://parnassusmusing.net/2021/11/20/these-precious-days-staff-qa-with-ann-patchett/">newest book of essays</a> on my desk. Tim and I went on a Thomas Vinterberg binge this spring after <i>Another Round</i>
was up for an Oscar. I think he's worth watching for the dark Danish
interiors alone (although you can absolutely skip his first effort). For two nights, Tim tried an Updike novel around that time, too, after reading an interesting critical piece about it. The book hit him in
the face both nights. Who needs Ambien, we joked, when you
have Updike?</span></span><br /></p><span style="font-size: small;">On the suggestion of a <a href="https://maybeillbecomeafarmer.wordpress.com/about/" target="_blank">friend </a>I read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Birds-Bees-Bringing-Equality/dp/158005739X" target="_blank"><i>Beyond Birds & Bees: Bringing Home a New Message to our Kids About Sex, Love, and Equality</i></a>, by Bonnie J. Rough, about sex education in the Netherlands and I highly recommend. As most nonfiction books about science can be, it's a little repetitive but the takeaway for me is that Dutch children who learn about their bodies and sex from infancy become young adults who have less teen pregnancy, fewer STDs, and a way healthier attitude about intimacy in general than the fear-based curriculum in other countries. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8ctR_vMzQcoKeuBGX4GjaP-aQ8KgstX2n5bkg9_1V8jW6DjTQivL1wTUS5C32gvCu7xmRk6Fn-91ynh77mdrCb_CViqwNum7X1d_iH5cxgASSe17yQ8vpaRv2iqnLrfY8V2N0vfKJeIN/s2048/IMG_1859.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik8ctR_vMzQcoKeuBGX4GjaP-aQ8KgstX2n5bkg9_1V8jW6DjTQivL1wTUS5C32gvCu7xmRk6Fn-91ynh77mdrCb_CViqwNum7X1d_iH5cxgASSe17yQ8vpaRv2iqnLrfY8V2N0vfKJeIN/w480-h640/IMG_1859.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tnuUwTM0-tVHrD5YEg8k5kvGlxcXnkkODW8R-XsuNFZitiNuH8_21o7ghGCGd-7s6PdnLjNO4fc_ncqkyc47101yhgTyox0jWrac6dwI9IRyns_DiUkIKrtOREj3x9EVFrrqu27hjxpS/s2048/IMG_1867.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4tnuUwTM0-tVHrD5YEg8k5kvGlxcXnkkODW8R-XsuNFZitiNuH8_21o7ghGCGd-7s6PdnLjNO4fc_ncqkyc47101yhgTyox0jWrac6dwI9IRyns_DiUkIKrtOREj3x9EVFrrqu27hjxpS/w640-h480/IMG_1867.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrUwcyfSKiQtfLK11glsEgXQtstQ1FcOsM1NZuRRvEMhMNXSk4SZb82fe9ah56YrM7wMWEd8MRRO1VWTZikYvDnnP5BE1Kyhzn4WjxxyRSXc5UsrC2DdCwJP1IX86ouopuAQbC_08NKud/s2048/IMG_1869.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXrUwcyfSKiQtfLK11glsEgXQtstQ1FcOsM1NZuRRvEMhMNXSk4SZb82fe9ah56YrM7wMWEd8MRRO1VWTZikYvDnnP5BE1Kyhzn4WjxxyRSXc5UsrC2DdCwJP1IX86ouopuAQbC_08NKud/w480-h640/IMG_1869.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_pZfa9dBCHIHxoCzTTb2qWgV23QQIxWj7Qn7UBsv0MEyAcGnRibsCuToBScT23t2UNEV5Y1WMl4ce352acinwtWoD4Azs9baMXasmVjMqeIlCgr-Jy4IpletphLMczawkKITW-GTeNf-/s2048/IMG_1880.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_pZfa9dBCHIHxoCzTTb2qWgV23QQIxWj7Qn7UBsv0MEyAcGnRibsCuToBScT23t2UNEV5Y1WMl4ce352acinwtWoD4Azs9baMXasmVjMqeIlCgr-Jy4IpletphLMczawkKITW-GTeNf-/w480-h640/IMG_1880.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LTfXbN46WHCRgcvePRdZcl-FRREdfSHvMl8OBLgCyZfae6DNQInumvUxRokTJ1FgoXvKkceorRS3YfC9oDpU5LutwpbuxC0iSvzEuGI-oquOL3TFmiB2q-XTL1DSrUm5i5g6KQDA32Fb/s2048/IMG_1889.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LTfXbN46WHCRgcvePRdZcl-FRREdfSHvMl8OBLgCyZfae6DNQInumvUxRokTJ1FgoXvKkceorRS3YfC9oDpU5LutwpbuxC0iSvzEuGI-oquOL3TFmiB2q-XTL1DSrUm5i5g6KQDA32Fb/w640-h480/IMG_1889.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikg7-5cMPskJitvmy9GDGT3gk3-rscguPZypKLjLiCn9c3T38JdQX7nVXXaV1widLGPwv9ALluMsT3Ck4cd_o7lbIc3mPcrOeG4Ootv-Gcdt5fd8x4fa7C1jPD5C0waoWldz2Mdbb8MNoR/s2048/IMG_1908.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikg7-5cMPskJitvmy9GDGT3gk3-rscguPZypKLjLiCn9c3T38JdQX7nVXXaV1widLGPwv9ALluMsT3Ck4cd_o7lbIc3mPcrOeG4Ootv-Gcdt5fd8x4fa7C1jPD5C0waoWldz2Mdbb8MNoR/w480-h640/IMG_1908.JPG" width="480" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Sometime this summer, I read an Ethan Hawke novel. Tim passed by with a load of laundry in his arms and said, "I feel a Sut Nam post coming on." I thought so, too, and then did nothing. Maybe I was gardening or going to the beach? Maybe Ethan Hawke isn't as influential as one would hope? <br /><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHc3pfDD9hwznN7P3uLshovxOvrs4YRIci2A48Kn7Tqs5L3oadH0BQEwwMFssum_yZy-VM0BcpjdKphrLs-hSDca8EFPF7z-YxlDvRN5RJ7FmTTUYMWcxFnUNQGO0gE-LeTwOiGqvOON5/s2048/IMG_1975.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHc3pfDD9hwznN7P3uLshovxOvrs4YRIci2A48Kn7Tqs5L3oadH0BQEwwMFssum_yZy-VM0BcpjdKphrLs-hSDca8EFPF7z-YxlDvRN5RJ7FmTTUYMWcxFnUNQGO0gE-LeTwOiGqvOON5/w480-h640/IMG_1975.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYtqjzm_I7my4-mfp1IP0R147dN2MlRLC0X89J0IieRJ1aE7D8QogIKruHgoiy15K2eAl_ie_ye2m-G4i1fYkVBIMy6qeUgswwo4oiM0jsFNWaAbeWvRgMxHR73f3SCcWSYsB62cWPXwL/s2048/IMG_2070.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYtqjzm_I7my4-mfp1IP0R147dN2MlRLC0X89J0IieRJ1aE7D8QogIKruHgoiy15K2eAl_ie_ye2m-G4i1fYkVBIMy6qeUgswwo4oiM0jsFNWaAbeWvRgMxHR73f3SCcWSYsB62cWPXwL/w640-h480/IMG_2070.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTqCQ_asRL2M0hkjTMyoAoyAUYRNIMM2iGNs_cuU2EC8OsSprpJJbaqrVpCf2SUUtl6uvkmOYyQvLDkofm8BdQbkVvHvyjQYA33fbDKvyjXmNHieuSDcuHroepJW7WmBDOJuN-IksS97E/s2048/IMG_2085.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaTqCQ_asRL2M0hkjTMyoAoyAUYRNIMM2iGNs_cuU2EC8OsSprpJJbaqrVpCf2SUUtl6uvkmOYyQvLDkofm8BdQbkVvHvyjQYA33fbDKvyjXmNHieuSDcuHroepJW7WmBDOJuN-IksS97E/w640-h480/IMG_2085.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEE0iASQdBzVtaNO6MGs-Xt1fVFJapdmnr-HuWLnTVBpR2d9RdFo4emFglVZ0TsulttMKcKP7Fciqbv1-ZIrKeV5MQFLqaglV9KPvhZwxk_eiIZWjQCWUlvNrH5JnbArW-wso9-2n-8BM/s2048/IMG_2095.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioEE0iASQdBzVtaNO6MGs-Xt1fVFJapdmnr-HuWLnTVBpR2d9RdFo4emFglVZ0TsulttMKcKP7Fciqbv1-ZIrKeV5MQFLqaglV9KPvhZwxk_eiIZWjQCWUlvNrH5JnbArW-wso9-2n-8BM/w640-h480/IMG_2095.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6yuht__VyAJt7JFUFGbFyJoIz0Xpka3Mo8jRuFFGR6a8kS2FkVhvP6FjkoCiSaz6F6_fRcvdbOvhciNOzXE_vW6XG53XlqaFGeSwnbEyYFVlzvo_IUWZmjNxEQyfbKMo_7TevGZ37GWW/s2048/IMG_2125.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6yuht__VyAJt7JFUFGbFyJoIz0Xpka3Mo8jRuFFGR6a8kS2FkVhvP6FjkoCiSaz6F6_fRcvdbOvhciNOzXE_vW6XG53XlqaFGeSwnbEyYFVlzvo_IUWZmjNxEQyfbKMo_7TevGZ37GWW/w640-h480/IMG_2125.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bAnGa1SqiLfMED82By4_e2OVZWFXAYtbT1JNx3pYv56PiLJ0pxRUD6ONo9un3ec5cQaBm0uQzTLnWKPa1_nP9mR-iMhRr3xriI-whtPIlNu4O97ByCCjC6R7pN1CxGVid3Lwj9E4F2sr/s2048/IMG_2146.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bAnGa1SqiLfMED82By4_e2OVZWFXAYtbT1JNx3pYv56PiLJ0pxRUD6ONo9un3ec5cQaBm0uQzTLnWKPa1_nP9mR-iMhRr3xriI-whtPIlNu4O97ByCCjC6R7pN1CxGVid3Lwj9E4F2sr/w640-h480/IMG_2146.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I hope to update this space somewhat more frequently but I also hold space for my turtle-like tendencies. They are something I've been embracing since my diagnosis and it feels pretty good. <br /><br />I hope the news in your corner is far less dramatic these days. Sending love across the webs, <br />Kara</span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_IbT9lDkE-vjDH_j9qTyLljvtdLcigzQpSkhpe7tUaHHnPXNu1nwMrtzdVJaWoYfwngrCrn6CRfnOovwf6wGuGNC2oCNHUfv0ALA-a2WKjZCvS5bYHMfDnqlMNQPb9QQYlxJIbmiv2cc/s2048/IMG_2278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8_IbT9lDkE-vjDH_j9qTyLljvtdLcigzQpSkhpe7tUaHHnPXNu1nwMrtzdVJaWoYfwngrCrn6CRfnOovwf6wGuGNC2oCNHUfv0ALA-a2WKjZCvS5bYHMfDnqlMNQPb9QQYlxJIbmiv2cc/w640-h480/IMG_2278.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrThcG3NCEc7zaXAn76CsjP1EOHUj87FSkUrklTwpJV8W1WIrcm3fPx_4OnTShiY2WMU9H2V4ZQjwI-KYPRWQcvC2M7RVrnriyt2c-xJrHUBwDtNLOKgvljP7X-F89wa7FkZRBUce5hId/s2048/IMG_2279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrThcG3NCEc7zaXAn76CsjP1EOHUj87FSkUrklTwpJV8W1WIrcm3fPx_4OnTShiY2WMU9H2V4ZQjwI-KYPRWQcvC2M7RVrnriyt2c-xJrHUBwDtNLOKgvljP7X-F89wa7FkZRBUce5hId/w640-h480/IMG_2279.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggIfWLI0dIUZgqoWKUVjxxrbc5msDtLFJ0jf_6IVsDST8PduLUQqzrysYN8ht54i_UtDatQviVTFp2qDm9RoeHcnHaC04MCosY89AToVQBtIRKvNOysIqqZ8s3nWvScwHp25PCGLfRcTzQ/s2048/IMG_2280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggIfWLI0dIUZgqoWKUVjxxrbc5msDtLFJ0jf_6IVsDST8PduLUQqzrysYN8ht54i_UtDatQviVTFp2qDm9RoeHcnHaC04MCosY89AToVQBtIRKvNOysIqqZ8s3nWvScwHp25PCGLfRcTzQ/w640-h480/IMG_2280.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></span><p></p><div aria-label="Keyboard navigation group. Use arrow keys to navigate, or tab to the next group." data-test-id="focus-group"><ul class="hd_n M_0 X_0" data-test-id="cards"><li class="m_Z12nDQf D_F ek_BB ir_0"><div class="p_R b_2w4l8N I_52qC em_N it_689y X_fq7 N_6LEV iu_FJ is_Z2bg7IA iv_0 iv3_dRA cZdTOHS_28Otf4 j_ZlOSbd message-view" data-iskeynav="true" data-test-expanded="true" data-test-id="message-view" tabindex="40"><div data-test-id="message-body-container"><div class="H_7jIs D_F ab_C Q_69H5 E_36RhU" data-test-id="toolbar-hover-area"><div class="D_F W_6D6F r_BN gl_C" data-test-id="card-toolbar"><div class="D_F ab_C en_0 b_Z14vXdP e_3mS2U I_52qC P_Z1otBpf"><hr class="M_0 P_0 cn_0" /></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="em_N en_N"></span></span></span></div></div></div></div></li></ul></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-7018334465686161632021-04-05T09:30:00.001-04:002021-04-05T09:30:18.420-04:00Passing<p></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>But the Victorian manner is perhaps - I am not sure - a disadvantage in writing. When I read my old Literary Supplement articles, I lay the blame for . . . their politeness, their sidelong approach, to my tea-table training. I see myself, not reviewing a book, but handing plates of buns to shy young men and asking: do they take cream and sugar?</i> <span> </span><span><span><span></span><span></span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span></span><span> <span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span><span> </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span>- from "A Sketch of the Past" by </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Virginia Woolf</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i> (</i>in <i>Moments of Being)<br /></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsSeC-vKmv8hZm-CD5FDvtuesx0z68HWuc5Msa4V3CiqKDOsBDVa27T2AFpYzyxUb6_VEX_KaQvL86I3z_WnSttupzDkFA5c9iKCBwSmnTsr4lMbIDtsLrRBuDg5wuY9l-QG1ksodl7zS/s2048/IMG_1105.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsSeC-vKmv8hZm-CD5FDvtuesx0z68HWuc5Msa4V3CiqKDOsBDVa27T2AFpYzyxUb6_VEX_KaQvL86I3z_WnSttupzDkFA5c9iKCBwSmnTsr4lMbIDtsLrRBuDg5wuY9l-QG1ksodl7zS/w640-h480/IMG_1105.JPG" width="640" /></a></i><br /><br />A few months ago, I was putting on my shoes and Ellis said, "Where are you going?" I started to answer, "I have to go . . . " </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">then drifted off,</span></span> forgetting to finish my sentence. He did it for me. "To the Dollar Tree?" he said. It was such a sad, sweet glimpse into our lives, I wrote it down to memorialize the days when I did not leave the house, the weeks when my children refused to get in the car. Things are much better now that we can legitimately go outside for hours at a time, when daffodils push
through the ground and Ellis takes the air after lunch while upright in our turquoise hammock, a cat balanced on the edge of sleep, a little Buddha in the sun. Tim and I have both been vaccinated and I'm dreaming now of cross-continental trips. <br /><br />A few weeks ago, Samantha said, "Our bathroom looks like a haunted house." I laughed and she said, "What's so funny?" She was not teasing me for my embrace of dust bunnies, but trying accurately to summarize the state of things. It really did look like a haunted house, dirt-filled corners and cobwebs around light bulbs. The day a spider tried to build its web in the middle of my shower, that was enough for us to finally clean. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPEptwRls42fjJFhE8n6KmecLtd0DG3h4JdffBYinRAmuCocONeml72h_yWYQFwgGyQdFKrYl2U1x_q7I8TTvJ8bAJ78EVFqEdz3xnSeDFK6wSBicEzUtwoCvwlilwPP7tjS-fDZXTh7d/s2048/IMG_1147.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPEptwRls42fjJFhE8n6KmecLtd0DG3h4JdffBYinRAmuCocONeml72h_yWYQFwgGyQdFKrYl2U1x_q7I8TTvJ8bAJ78EVFqEdz3xnSeDFK6wSBicEzUtwoCvwlilwPP7tjS-fDZXTh7d/w480-h640/IMG_1147.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqofcr1Yxrzk1Gl2BvDecSqOa1kaS8Bm0Qdr7HJgXdWc4AB1hf9Fzr-uxQLbGxmkZdrCG8ilMfT1y2S-qatNdYeSkdh2h59NmZ9NlWpVXQDq1vYJB9TNf7s4BgTZ2x9ti-KDghvZ4LWHT/s2048/IMG_1148.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqofcr1Yxrzk1Gl2BvDecSqOa1kaS8Bm0Qdr7HJgXdWc4AB1hf9Fzr-uxQLbGxmkZdrCG8ilMfT1y2S-qatNdYeSkdh2h59NmZ9NlWpVXQDq1vYJB9TNf7s4BgTZ2x9ti-KDghvZ4LWHT/w480-h640/IMG_1148.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjic7qEFCS5hfnGAthB-8OpVgZyypZH-9MdjRT9eXG6ejMITXL5QBcj1RGMw4Li5p8jCAW_W207CPotq0PyfoS4uWsb3SJMzWZBu6NH8gZLlCHRpDlL_G9h7ik5yKG_zfTZn9tD_mbH1SOz/s2048/IMG_1155.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjic7qEFCS5hfnGAthB-8OpVgZyypZH-9MdjRT9eXG6ejMITXL5QBcj1RGMw4Li5p8jCAW_W207CPotq0PyfoS4uWsb3SJMzWZBu6NH8gZLlCHRpDlL_G9h7ik5yKG_zfTZn9tD_mbH1SOz/w640-h480/IMG_1155.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tadIeFMWUz2iOHdHs_RNM4c4jvLBi2ASC-yLKjaqHiISwxoyO7sctYJOJjE3sATO-iRVhmYyZx7pmT-YS3bK_3GTb-SWgf3U-5gd2turtDUwIhiCY7QyXydQgvZVxgsnzs4BaZ6_e2cU/s2048/IMG_1168.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tadIeFMWUz2iOHdHs_RNM4c4jvLBi2ASC-yLKjaqHiISwxoyO7sctYJOJjE3sATO-iRVhmYyZx7pmT-YS3bK_3GTb-SWgf3U-5gd2turtDUwIhiCY7QyXydQgvZVxgsnzs4BaZ6_e2cU/w640-h480/IMG_1168.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This winter was a revelation. It was so cold some days that we could not go outside. Samantha's teachers led her through meditation exercises, and while I've always felt it was a little silly to teach a child to be more free, more awake to their "essential nature," when Samantha one day noticed me yelling, she sweetly offered this advice: "Maybe you could try some of my breathing exercises, Mama." I paused, ready to dismiss them as flimsy stand-ins, and then realized that she was right. I could not have a four-day yoga retreat, but a minute with my own thoughts was more than called for. <br /><br />Around the same time, we started watching <i>Mr. Rogers</i> on DVD, and I doubled down by watching <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VLEPhfEN2M" target="_blank"><i>A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood</i></a> with Matthew Rhys (and Tom Hanks, whose name is a bit of a dirty word in our house) by myself. I find Matthew Rhys so emotive, I could watch him sleep, and made Tim re-watch <i>The Post</i> just to see Rhys on screen again. This led to a re-watch of <i>Spotlight</i>, which I loved as much as <i>The Post</i> when I first saw it. From there it was on to <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt9071322/" target="_blank"><i>Dark Waters</i></a>, and more Mark Ruffalo, about the corporate defense attorney who went after Dupont after they covered up toxic pollution for decades. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I re-read <i>Gatsby</i>, enthralled by its language, its dialogue, and its terrible plot point about Gatsby and Tom switching cars at the end. I also felt pretty bad about myself as a writer while reading and teased myself all day long: <i>Oh yes, poor you, you aren't Fitzgerald</i>. Tim sat through a re-watch of Redford with dewy-eyed Mia Farrow in the 1974 production, in which Bruce Dern absolutely crushes every scene he's in. Tim: "The reason he's so appealing is because he's so <i>Bruce Dern</i>, but he's younger and therefore mesmerizing." I disagree. There is something so handsome but rattish about Dern as Tom, I can't look away and believe I would feel the same, even if I didn't know his later work. We then lobbed the name "Bob" around the house for days, as if we were bffs with Redford. While watching, I said, "Is Redford a terrible actor?" Tim said, "Yes, but he's trying less than someone like Costner, so you don't notice it as much." <br /><br />I remembered the article Tim had once mentioned, <a href="https://www.salon.com/2000/08/09/gatsby/" target="_blank">"Was Gatsby Black?"</a>, in which an academic reads as if Jay is passing as a white man, an idea I found pretty fascinating. Then I got to the end of the book and realized how much it is, in fact, about the Midwest. What seems to be about New York and east coast greed and elegance in fact leads you to this passage at the end: <br /><br />"One of my most vivid memories is of coming back West from prep school and later from college at Christmas time. Those who went further than Chicago would gather in the old dim Union Station at six o'clock of a December evening. . . .When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows . . . That's my Middle West - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns . . ." <br /><br />Here's the end of that paragraph:<br /><br />"I see now that this has been a story of the West, after all - Tom and Gatsby, Daisy and Jordan and I, were all Westerners, and perhaps we possessed some deficiency in common which made us subtly unadaptable to Eastern life." <br /><br />When I read those lines, I forgot all about the passing-as-white theory. While so much textual evidence is there - if not authorial intent - I found myself recasting the narrative in a caul of Midwestern literature and couldn't go back. <br /><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ggujcVXb0YiTjY1sR-0XLx_mSYXsYVqZNFbjlFYtnJhk6JJ6Ng0FG8CEZ-Dkq2K8BHWkTPLyf21Sh13XdvXCUyuYNUvFa3PlOcpvQdMlQp9MBJ0Do6u9J6kc6q7z6Yt4QJXY07ZNkV9p/s2048/IMG_1188.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ggujcVXb0YiTjY1sR-0XLx_mSYXsYVqZNFbjlFYtnJhk6JJ6Ng0FG8CEZ-Dkq2K8BHWkTPLyf21Sh13XdvXCUyuYNUvFa3PlOcpvQdMlQp9MBJ0Do6u9J6kc6q7z6Yt4QJXY07ZNkV9p/w640-h480/IMG_1188.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXsYPkPsJjZh69MJsnjr7iKv887yH4ODKucyLOoImhpaEJCVm9nI4o49BJ4e7aJfwEwpfabMlPyTY2jm-hB6nFdqMy6RdPFwQTPkcZVM9Xj0Kt8-_LEk0mepmEcMkGfuJNvQ5y3K-MlZZ/s2048/IMG_1198.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXsYPkPsJjZh69MJsnjr7iKv887yH4ODKucyLOoImhpaEJCVm9nI4o49BJ4e7aJfwEwpfabMlPyTY2jm-hB6nFdqMy6RdPFwQTPkcZVM9Xj0Kt8-_LEk0mepmEcMkGfuJNvQ5y3K-MlZZ/w480-h640/IMG_1198.JPG" width="480" /><br /><br /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2ys_q0_N2GdyMlCo2mbv9y8ScxsEuJgvF5C2yJ639IXhbBC5eZaeroaUUN11Y-13EeBEtCpy7qXvHUQ8x-JrZOtW02f5o-rM_mo6ddeY-OGT4ZmrY6c1dUxgSKmZFxDn8k_Dbyl2kfNW/s2048/IMG_1210.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2ys_q0_N2GdyMlCo2mbv9y8ScxsEuJgvF5C2yJ639IXhbBC5eZaeroaUUN11Y-13EeBEtCpy7qXvHUQ8x-JrZOtW02f5o-rM_mo6ddeY-OGT4ZmrY6c1dUxgSKmZFxDn8k_Dbyl2kfNW/w640-h480/IMG_1210.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53baRUljDmozumeUMVBVQ7U1nBY4i5o7Lr9GVVjW4HMKksQtSJo9tH5ZwbwOuDaSrLKGxM1AOkHNGFYbVwbYAmGT-qK0skipTxdg_nUklr5T8nm_zOr5ls32Ams2vFVl_22c7KnbtCTh3/s2048/IMG_1235.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53baRUljDmozumeUMVBVQ7U1nBY4i5o7Lr9GVVjW4HMKksQtSJo9tH5ZwbwOuDaSrLKGxM1AOkHNGFYbVwbYAmGT-qK0skipTxdg_nUklr5T8nm_zOr5ls32Ams2vFVl_22c7KnbtCTh3/w480-h640/IMG_1235.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX1CyvACm9JfmkHbDYbUpFpNSgXY-Rq9rBdBGauTfFI8Iq3sW84eIDOnQNHyBPykEjXcTCIkL7fZtiDTh6z2WXQVdnMpVaBWeTC77RXSOW3Zhl2kYbNSv2tSceOuJgtYj7LLCd5-uP8a2/s2048/IMG_1261.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXX1CyvACm9JfmkHbDYbUpFpNSgXY-Rq9rBdBGauTfFI8Iq3sW84eIDOnQNHyBPykEjXcTCIkL7fZtiDTh6z2WXQVdnMpVaBWeTC77RXSOW3Zhl2kYbNSv2tSceOuJgtYj7LLCd5-uP8a2/w480-h640/IMG_1261.JPG" width="480" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, near the last page of <i>Gatsby</i>, I marveled at Fitzgerald's outrageous use of an adverb: "On the white steps an obscene word, scrawled by some boy with a piece of brick, stood out clearly in the moonlight, and I erased it, drawing my shoe raspingly along the stone." <br /><br />Raspingly?!?!? I'm embarrassed when I use the word "quietly" to indicate the volume with which a character says something. It seems I've been missing all the fun. <br /><br />I'm having trouble recalling all that I read this winter. I've been enjoying Jerald Walker's <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Make-Slave-Other-Essays-Century/dp/081425599X" target="_blank">How to Make a Slave and Other Essays</a></i> and was so happy to discover <a href="https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250756121" target="_blank"><i>The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation</i></a>, by Anna Malaika Tubbs, as Malcom's mother was committed to the mental hospital here in town (from the book, it sounds like against her will). For a town rife with writers and liberal leanings, I frankly don't hear enough about this dark chapter. <br /><br />I started Zadie Smith's pandemic-themed thoughts, <i>Intimations</i>, and love her description of how her art is, basically, "something to do." In an essay of the same name, she examines the internet fever of baking banana bread when the lockdown began and writes: "The something that artists have always done is more usually cordoned off from the rest of society, and by mutual agreement this space is considered a sort of charming but basically useless playpen, in which adults get to behave like children - making up stories and drawing pictures and so on - though at least they provide some form of pleasure to serious people, doing actual jobs." <br /><br />She accuses herself of being unable to sufficiently fill time without access to her old hidey-holes, and from there goes on to other entertaining thoughts. Her summation made me laugh and also think of the derision that our capitalist structures have for the time, patience, anxiety, and spiritual deaths necessary to create art. The more time that passes since I read Eula Biss's <i>On Having and Being Had</i> over Thanksgiving, the more I recall and appreciate her examination of capitalism<i>.</i> <br /><br />"Every year," Biss writes, "I'm required to fill out a form for the university that
lists my contributions and accomplishments. What I want to report is
that I've done absolutely nothing of value and that is my
accomplishment." <br /><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPp5YHEfOqC-EAUnhbyL4VvRA6Rd4f8M_-bgKRSMo-H9RXZCPYd6KqA7JaEuZ0GTspFEKCI_IFtFo_WVgaXch6yotfU6jMSsyGba01zLNxJBNqyHkz8U0tCCVPDDj4FAhmeZhl0oT6tpw8/s2048/IMG_1274.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPp5YHEfOqC-EAUnhbyL4VvRA6Rd4f8M_-bgKRSMo-H9RXZCPYd6KqA7JaEuZ0GTspFEKCI_IFtFo_WVgaXch6yotfU6jMSsyGba01zLNxJBNqyHkz8U0tCCVPDDj4FAhmeZhl0oT6tpw8/w480-h640/IMG_1274.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UrRJgcXJ8K64n2xMd2GskdMyogQ6KCLt7X83kPzaQoJivZevhyphenhyphenNHOP1jhtXoeF3UwkNGCTeyJHWm5afGHiOE3LnGpk22i_jCXODrt7GDSsU6mt873IaKQ7xTQzH1KJuhKpGuvEbf6Hnj/s2048/IMG_1283.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UrRJgcXJ8K64n2xMd2GskdMyogQ6KCLt7X83kPzaQoJivZevhyphenhyphenNHOP1jhtXoeF3UwkNGCTeyJHWm5afGHiOE3LnGpk22i_jCXODrt7GDSsU6mt873IaKQ7xTQzH1KJuhKpGuvEbf6Hnj/w640-h480/IMG_1283.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmDmEfnsknQZK5oADsG6k4YtqFKAUuU6UFCV7fz_M5Xavh9qIZmClL5izndsMgN8iTr7erhAe799DHEah8FrKgIHQM_E7UM8NHAZGwu3O_wRXC9URJlONKoRmdGYisVVH4AsNDk2DpLsR/s2048/IMG_1299.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTmDmEfnsknQZK5oADsG6k4YtqFKAUuU6UFCV7fz_M5Xavh9qIZmClL5izndsMgN8iTr7erhAe799DHEah8FrKgIHQM_E7UM8NHAZGwu3O_wRXC9URJlONKoRmdGYisVVH4AsNDk2DpLsR/w480-h640/IMG_1299.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTgVnd304IayjLdVe7WcUKONhyphenhyphengWgPMH3nFFtT-y6dkiGSN1H1rlVU04TaAg75FcDGRG7nFA0_YzANG-nAIfpUbK8RQSaPIi6URsdTEs9BI5oXQg1xRxMOmW4Fvyp6EapHtZXGv7HCDHVS/s2048/IMG_1301.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTgVnd304IayjLdVe7WcUKONhyphenhyphengWgPMH3nFFtT-y6dkiGSN1H1rlVU04TaAg75FcDGRG7nFA0_YzANG-nAIfpUbK8RQSaPIi6URsdTEs9BI5oXQg1xRxMOmW4Fvyp6EapHtZXGv7HCDHVS/w480-h640/IMG_1301.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On the topic of Biss and class privilege, we watched <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35jJNyFuYKQ" target="_blank"><i>The White Tiger</i></a>, based on the book by <span class="aCOpRe"><span>Aravind Adiga, and loved it. I also devoured Danielle Evans's first collection of stories, <a href="https://daniellevevans.com/" target="_blank"><i>Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self</i></a>, which I accidentally checked out on Ellis's library card and thereafter received notices that this title was ready for my three year-old. I re-read Sally Rooney's <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s?k=normal+people&i=stripbooks&crid=2BMG2S8TV0QE0&sprefix=normal+people%2Caps%2C190&ref=nb_sb_ss_c_2_13_ts-doa-p" target="_blank"><i>Normal People</i></a> nearly a year after <a href="https://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2020/05/stung-by-bee.html" target="_blank">I read her first book</a>, right before Michigan went into lockdown. My mother was visiting when I started <i>Conversations with Friends</i>, and I toggled between slices of birthday cake and Rooney's addictive pages. A few weeks later, a friend recommended <i>Normal People</i> after Ellis got the flu, Tim came down with a mysterious illness, and Samantha went online. I liked <i>Normal People</i> even more the second time around and promptly fell into a puddle of obsession with its adaptation on Hulu, in which I'm still happily splashing.</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Someone dressed themselves in our house recently, saying, "Sparkles go
with sparkles!" a statement made while sweeping grandly into the room and also one with which my
twenty-year-old self would have definitely agreed. Sometime during our Mr. Rogers heyday, Samantha watched an episode in which the host explored public escalators in a mall. "Mr. Rogers
is so lucky he doesn't have to wear a mask," she said, 100% serious. <br /><br />Here's a picture of me laughing at an attempt to take my picture next to some sea oats. The desired photo didn't turn out, but I got a great shot of my toupee. Finally, my friend Thisbe's new book is out. It's a collection of stories called <i><a href="https://www.wsupress.wayne.edu/books/detail/how-other-people-make-love" target="_blank">How Other People Make Love</a></i> and I can't wait to read it.<br /><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH-WgKU2yv3mAE_ekQN4n4NWuFSoHY6ggaElU7g7Bp9hSEqAJ6VZo9P2HFODimIyn1H7jXz4F13EaNmBkw7zd4nkM5Ud7KDGML4dtRqAjvRtBrzegoIdfCiox4aogWgq_nOIKGF7lvB9h/s2048/IMG_1346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH-WgKU2yv3mAE_ekQN4n4NWuFSoHY6ggaElU7g7Bp9hSEqAJ6VZo9P2HFODimIyn1H7jXz4F13EaNmBkw7zd4nkM5Ud7KDGML4dtRqAjvRtBrzegoIdfCiox4aogWgq_nOIKGF7lvB9h/w480-h640/IMG_1346.JPG" width="480" /><br /><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXBqNRNCKyHgH_-xT6u_jEqP-MN-RNhVcmlZGhnLojSJSfzR5SZ7fOv07CY1VrPChBy2IaYyNr4VTAKi2TF16ZovfD2XRSkUQcwQkSqKlvi2IoBNDk9TV0ynAa_hpcck6tW3dPrgiF9qK/s2048/IMG_1385+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXBqNRNCKyHgH_-xT6u_jEqP-MN-RNhVcmlZGhnLojSJSfzR5SZ7fOv07CY1VrPChBy2IaYyNr4VTAKi2TF16ZovfD2XRSkUQcwQkSqKlvi2IoBNDk9TV0ynAa_hpcck6tW3dPrgiF9qK/w480-h640/IMG_1385+-+Copy.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9U9X5zVCvhZfmZjvK0emV2A7k0VEECW501gLbo0dAGpTeyUlPkRfHWsZhxoU1Yj3HgzCMtpJ7ABO80FElFmZMVIjnXV5j_jRzJaaWujz0gWF65N1MH8JaG-oX1OMQjS4STDX0HiEXxdP/s2048/IMG_1383.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH9U9X5zVCvhZfmZjvK0emV2A7k0VEECW501gLbo0dAGpTeyUlPkRfHWsZhxoU1Yj3HgzCMtpJ7ABO80FElFmZMVIjnXV5j_jRzJaaWujz0gWF65N1MH8JaG-oX1OMQjS4STDX0HiEXxdP/w640-h480/IMG_1383.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-55057293092455139682021-01-27T10:31:00.002-05:002021-01-27T10:31:42.983-05:00N is for Netflix<p></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>These days, Clarissa believes, you measure people first by their kindness and their capacity for devotion. You get tired, sometimes, of wit and intellect; everybody's little display of genius.</i> <br />- <i>The Hours</i>, Michael Cunningham<br /><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBihR2m_NpgieLpbRw0s40cOnbNmTdE-k8zkuLK1Ck6oiSDt1OcjOXKFFnLeqbSMDfyg00sQIKTdlXCIiCVeVCXGd8N9JkztoWp-uUdz9HkaE3zGRPcfzVoxv5peZCgMvth9PxpT6QM9nX/s2048/IMG_0664.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBihR2m_NpgieLpbRw0s40cOnbNmTdE-k8zkuLK1Ck6oiSDt1OcjOXKFFnLeqbSMDfyg00sQIKTdlXCIiCVeVCXGd8N9JkztoWp-uUdz9HkaE3zGRPcfzVoxv5peZCgMvth9PxpT6QM9nX/w640-h480/IMG_0664.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8x9YqwIY8uhkaE3v_1_9hklZzf_BdAYuXit71Hsle-PnxcQxFGHuJj7urc1V8lRkWdWALu729a2AfEDcGOqOQ2TsyxGRNPbadx8zjmJBy9P2Pl6LWAutqAb_A5vmxJ39teIkID3JojAmr/s2048/IMG_0671.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8x9YqwIY8uhkaE3v_1_9hklZzf_BdAYuXit71Hsle-PnxcQxFGHuJj7urc1V8lRkWdWALu729a2AfEDcGOqOQ2TsyxGRNPbadx8zjmJBy9P2Pl6LWAutqAb_A5vmxJ39teIkID3JojAmr/w640-h480/IMG_0671.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7OjjQ17SnL2PBbZ_e8kbBivvSUtC-KzssidpqaQp3m-WttEhlLgtLaFfxXnxbxkDXbHRgcchaq8vzC1Bsb4UuI_VjAYFWkaR-R76wsQCw5Yvw8Ms7knWb19zOgvSCm__chNDu2TfgBIT/s2048/IMG_0677.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7OjjQ17SnL2PBbZ_e8kbBivvSUtC-KzssidpqaQp3m-WttEhlLgtLaFfxXnxbxkDXbHRgcchaq8vzC1Bsb4UuI_VjAYFWkaR-R76wsQCw5Yvw8Ms7knWb19zOgvSCm__chNDu2TfgBIT/w640-h480/IMG_0677.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Michael-Cunningham/e/B00456O74U?ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vu00_thcv_p1_i0" target="_blank"><i>The Hours</i></a> for the first time, and it struck me how faithful the movie was to the book. I saw the movie first a few years ago, and it has the most amazing flood scene in a hotel, which I watched and rewound over and over when I saw it. I read a Cunningham story in graduate school that felt so beautiful to me then that it hurt. Reading <i>The Hours</i>, I kept thinking, how does someone get to be <i>so</i> good? I loved it.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.indiebound.org/search/book?keys=author%3AdeWitt%2C%20Patrick" target="_blank"><i>French Exit</i></a>, the novel by Patrick DeWitt, entertained me royally this fall for days. I had seen it at the library during its opening this summer, but didn't know if I would like the book. Would it be <i>too</i> clever? The author photo was unnervingly great. (The library has closed again for safety, though employees still run books out to cars while in masks, after being texted by their masked patrons. The whole thing is a miracle run by people I consider angels. I can hardly think of a service for which I'm more grateful.) <br /><br /><i>French Exit</i> is about an upper crust New Yorker whose money has run out; her morose, unemployed son; and their cat who is actually her reincarnated husband. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was not only up for the task of reading it, it'</span></span>s fair to say I worshipped at its feet. It employs kooky, ensemble tropes to wondrous effect in its second half, when the protagonist and her son (and their cat) move to Paris, where they live freely in a friend's apartment. The ending is a little morose, if I'm being honest with myself, but I looked the other way since I had loved the rest of the book, its whole tone, its arch humor, and its surprising, disciplined moments of heart.<br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dtSo1qFXSSYVrlHoXMgEFlGAOneulTBViZ3dyhy19UUdLaJge5Q7fg6SUsIC7wKlqRUZ8E6qLDpAM6UOwnsoGRtj9AdYbyVVnqzHWgzflMF3WOl5gX-j4U8RP6A5mmORXIgQajkNcPYP/s2048/IMG_0694.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dtSo1qFXSSYVrlHoXMgEFlGAOneulTBViZ3dyhy19UUdLaJge5Q7fg6SUsIC7wKlqRUZ8E6qLDpAM6UOwnsoGRtj9AdYbyVVnqzHWgzflMF3WOl5gX-j4U8RP6A5mmORXIgQajkNcPYP/w480-h640/IMG_0694.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7-s5AIdPjjKBw_pW4tmSRi63HQIJrktm35USUnxh9D6M7GKpNtU5gNCOlnVJ2-A4QDdL7E1ApfAPRyPTrsORJqEtKRI7QncF3zliI5u76Jlo8R1KxVyQkCU9PYkm7RVTAxf-zVr_C-t2/s2048/IMG_0788.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7-s5AIdPjjKBw_pW4tmSRi63HQIJrktm35USUnxh9D6M7GKpNtU5gNCOlnVJ2-A4QDdL7E1ApfAPRyPTrsORJqEtKRI7QncF3zliI5u76Jlo8R1KxVyQkCU9PYkm7RVTAxf-zVr_C-t2/w480-h640/IMG_0788.JPG" width="480" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After <i>French Exit</i>, I became obsessed with one of Dewitt's earlier novels, <i>The Sisters Brothers</i>. It is also a film but I am frightened to see it, because it stars Joaquin Phoenix. (Remember his 2020 Oscars acceptance speech? I worried he might cry while talking about cow milk.) It seems <i>French Exit</i> has also been made into a film, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bqMJeE15YiA" target="_blank">starring Michelle Pfieffer</a> no less, and while I'm sure it's good, I can't imagine it exceeding the poetic, western-slash-depressive's diary that is <i>The Sisters Brothers</i> book. <br /><br />After finishing <i>The Hours</i>, I buckled down for <i>Mrs. Dalloway</i> but found myself drifting quickly to academic writing about Woolf. I also found myself studying Woolf's use of semicolons, thinking, "Where does she get off!" Haha. <br /><br />I read Robyin Crawford's memoir, <i>A Song for You</i>, about her friendship with Whitney Houston and finished it in one night - a night that Tim kept waking and finding the light still on, much to his confusion. I read Eula Biss's new book, <i>Having and Being Had</i>, which sometimes felt more like a self-flagellation than an examination of life under capitalism, but I always like to hear her think about writing, how she pits income against writing hours in her life. I'm not sure I hold the same theories about art, or life for that matter, but I always find her process fascinating. <br /><br />Samantha and I read a kids series called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Big-Foot-Little-Book/dp/1419728598/ref=pd_bxgy_img_3/139-2518128-8310362?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=1419728598&pd_rd_r=aa0651ab-3ab4-4147-b180-c1ae6b324c04&pd_rd_w=W6OS5&pd_rd_wg=LoWwk&pf_rd_p=f325d01c-4658-4593-be83-3e12ca663f0e&pf_rd_r=EFXRR7NDPYW4J0B2GEJX&psc=1&refRID=EFXRR7NDPYW4J0B2GEJX" target="_blank"><i>The Squatchicorns</i></a>, by Ellen Potter, which was very cute and entertaining enough that Ellis sat through many pages without pictures. We started on <i>The Little House</i> books after receiving a copy of <i>Little House in the Big Woods</i> as a Christmas present. Samantha was a big fan and it was sweet to read together, but I got a little tired of reading about Pa's gun. I was joking so much about the ubiquity of that topic that, when a few strands of lights on our Christmas tree went out, Samantha said, "And then Pa got his gun and fixed the lights." I pretty much died laughing. <br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A week or so later,
Tim heard her reading an alphabet book to Ellis, and she said, "N is for
Netflix" instead of "nest," which was pictured in the book. Please
email us for copies of our book on parenting!<br /></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ByCuea-2Iky0vumrMq3UIirXvtAI8-YQo9NF38asUp01f51ZVzkcH4On8u-pSEyIMiu0VQVigIEkJtgR9ix85cMAjBQ-A6d9TmxFKp2ug9K2DMDJozXL5UxeTO6j0zrBU9acywsREC50/s2048/IMG_0828.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ByCuea-2Iky0vumrMq3UIirXvtAI8-YQo9NF38asUp01f51ZVzkcH4On8u-pSEyIMiu0VQVigIEkJtgR9ix85cMAjBQ-A6d9TmxFKp2ug9K2DMDJozXL5UxeTO6j0zrBU9acywsREC50/w640-h480/IMG_0828.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm listening to a few podcasts featuring women and no celebrities, but for some reason I really loved <a href="https://www.earwolf.com/person/isaac-mizrahi/" target="_blank">this episode of Homophilia with Isaac Mizrahi</a>. I think I like Mizrahi's intensity, his New York accent, and the way he embraces his eccentricities. Plus, I love hearing him talk about film, and the need for a deep education in cinema when he was younger. I could listen to him rave about classic films for days. At one point he says something like, "Was that a rant? It was. It was a rant." What can I say? I'm all for big, opinionated (talented) artists who can't help but shout. <br /><br />Is now the time to tell you that, as we went into a store recently, I said to Tim, "I want to look for some driving gloves." He cackled madly and said, "Yeah, let's look for a smoking jacket for me, too." Haha! Also, how dare he? Fleece mittens slide when operate a steering wheel, thank you very much.<br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTYmP7dl5_-MjAjUVpb2Txo0RtsyYmuXSCScxZhVDwznrTJ1oPtdau-jBGsB5fLsEWh9FmvUwu1_CL4CmLkkCyktMTmJ-4I6Zk3Cj2IoMDl0EBLaL8wcYMkYvFo2FAAx1ggWOH8e7YEs9/s2048/IMG_0865.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXTYmP7dl5_-MjAjUVpb2Txo0RtsyYmuXSCScxZhVDwznrTJ1oPtdau-jBGsB5fLsEWh9FmvUwu1_CL4CmLkkCyktMTmJ-4I6Zk3Cj2IoMDl0EBLaL8wcYMkYvFo2FAAx1ggWOH8e7YEs9/w640-h480/IMG_0865.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3edwhkx3uTj305CP9N6rsOCVCfm2i9ulykYqikVRChe4ctMRAjDe2O7OBgnGzaidXp4XdJkuKHdPl_Di6ICr0LKXJtg7sEZ91YQGQg5ECFpAOIt_SzzmgJQxCKpCZ9H_T7ezLxTyLTMza/s2048/IMG_0878.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3edwhkx3uTj305CP9N6rsOCVCfm2i9ulykYqikVRChe4ctMRAjDe2O7OBgnGzaidXp4XdJkuKHdPl_Di6ICr0LKXJtg7sEZ91YQGQg5ECFpAOIt_SzzmgJQxCKpCZ9H_T7ezLxTyLTMza/w480-h640/IMG_0878.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULpELv6HxkyZSVabzvNqF_ciZz8UjKRnbBuWR_6vAqaKq9tsn2BDED85ori9bocdFljike-_ZZDhprUnIjLeWqUd994Qou8qaqW9TOdukzgRt_QxtY1LhsaUJa3zqCV6R2e9lMh51n0hW/s2048/IMG_0897.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULpELv6HxkyZSVabzvNqF_ciZz8UjKRnbBuWR_6vAqaKq9tsn2BDED85ori9bocdFljike-_ZZDhprUnIjLeWqUd994Qou8qaqW9TOdukzgRt_QxtY1LhsaUJa3zqCV6R2e9lMh51n0hW/w640-h480/IMG_0897.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje020UEjUKhuq3skIkZXRXI-KsUTGMP6KMIURD-rQHqmGekCEEJoX4rYcq1PQ3EqCDhH16ivNGsLc_yTXyziDsdBbZOf9XEl2bbRvU3_yeL5QS-6O0qBmkEhu7kB2X1HCSp803xF7hFX76/s2048/IMG_0901.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje020UEjUKhuq3skIkZXRXI-KsUTGMP6KMIURD-rQHqmGekCEEJoX4rYcq1PQ3EqCDhH16ivNGsLc_yTXyziDsdBbZOf9XEl2bbRvU3_yeL5QS-6O0qBmkEhu7kB2X1HCSp803xF7hFX76/w640-h480/IMG_0901.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ellis yawned one morning not long ago and sleepily leaned over his cereal bowl. "I'm tired from all that sleeping," he said. He also thinks video calls are a verb called "Thanksgiving," even though our only Zoom calls this year happened over Christmas. Whenever I muse aloud that I miss someone, like the friends whose past holiday cards perch in my cookbook (often near chocolate chip cookies or brownies, if you must know), Ellis looks at me and says, "But you can Thanksgiving them!" and I say, "Yes, yes I can." <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpgENDkcQcEzzxadBXqJ1m0e-GXy1mAFMAqI7lsUawSTOnX_IEgSzHbSF6XMCy6vDaZxOysUxzOnqc4C54RK1veFmfYOHGB7VhnMjrnJ_0_CTXOY60ANJ9M4YuUY4XHEl1-g4z7I8x6LC/s2048/IMG_0922.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpgENDkcQcEzzxadBXqJ1m0e-GXy1mAFMAqI7lsUawSTOnX_IEgSzHbSF6XMCy6vDaZxOysUxzOnqc4C54RK1veFmfYOHGB7VhnMjrnJ_0_CTXOY60ANJ9M4YuUY4XHEl1-g4z7I8x6LC/w640-h480/IMG_0922.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />I checked out a great book about Laura Ingalls Wilder called <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781628726565" target="_blank"><i>Libertarians on the Prairie</i></a>, because it chronicles the life of her daughter, Rose Wilder Lane, who was, it seems, quite involved as her mother's writing partner, though that story isn't well known. <i>Libertarians on the Prairie</i> is by <a href="https://chriswoodside.com/" target="_blank">Christine Woodside</a>, and I haven't finished it, but so far it's everything I want to know about the <i>Little House</i> books. I've never been sold on the rosy glow of those books, though I do like them and certainly understand their appeal, so when I read the following blurb on the back of the book, I was stunned: <br /><br /><i>Libertarians on the Prairie is a fascinating expose of the ideological underpinnings of one of America's best-loved stories. Who knew the Laura Ingalls Wilder franchise was actually political propaganda? </i>(Jane Mayer) <br /><br />I don't mean to be obnoxious but, like, who doesn't know that the <i>Little House</i> franchise is propaganda?? Maybe we don't associate it with libertarian leanings or economic viewpoints, but it is absolutely, chillingly American propaganda in my mind, not to mention disturbingly racist in many ways. <br /><br />Anyway, I digress. The end of <i>Little House in the Big Woods</i> is fascinatingly zen. Wilder writes, "Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods . . . . She thought to herself, 'This is now.'" <br /><br />I earmarked the passage when I read it with Samantha, and then read in <i>Libertarians on the Prairie</i> that Rose returned from living abroad to her parents farm in Missouri: "She would stay busy and study languages," Woodside writes. "She would try living in the present, removing the 'weight of tomorrow.'" Reading that detail, I recalled the ending of her mother's first book, whom many believed Rose edited heavily and helped shape. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHWed4DzL89uz_F31O15p2hLppsdZ0_onmrBZNbymT07QuZ6Hxd1kAr1SXbqup4wIC9BnalbEtPeqji4ocTqNH0QSvPj2YJYLp57UOsa01jqwfKKwU-8-AclLQVV-AMxch2w1xeDp2fuq/s2048/IMG_0942.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHWed4DzL89uz_F31O15p2hLppsdZ0_onmrBZNbymT07QuZ6Hxd1kAr1SXbqup4wIC9BnalbEtPeqji4ocTqNH0QSvPj2YJYLp57UOsa01jqwfKKwU-8-AclLQVV-AMxch2w1xeDp2fuq/w480-h640/IMG_0942.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcPF7ydF9nP0592V1mzh9WiCG8E8bzLUtQXUMXTFPOG7Jj0PwmZiaag3ljRXeHVj2JeQjc2qpI5CbNq7V5o7EKdykSe5SFKecDRQLi7ToE3TVL6fg0IVzkNPw7yq3JKGvsLdBao8x5HC2/s2048/IMG_0950.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtcPF7ydF9nP0592V1mzh9WiCG8E8bzLUtQXUMXTFPOG7Jj0PwmZiaag3ljRXeHVj2JeQjc2qpI5CbNq7V5o7EKdykSe5SFKecDRQLi7ToE3TVL6fg0IVzkNPw7yq3JKGvsLdBao8x5HC2/w480-h640/IMG_0950.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqlPuwBkuPigUFJcVITlV-L5MT64hW4bw4GUsm0i3E7idV7vCgppnM30rTDUUVLtnd6XXQENg8PhAteD-URBYkWkw9S7MLacCKMmYB63Sm7tAlAy_O6B93Jo5OP5cTDgw3riLN1T8QrX6/s2048/IMG_0982.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAqlPuwBkuPigUFJcVITlV-L5MT64hW4bw4GUsm0i3E7idV7vCgppnM30rTDUUVLtnd6XXQENg8PhAteD-URBYkWkw9S7MLacCKMmYB63Sm7tAlAy_O6B93Jo5OP5cTDgw3riLN1T8QrX6/w480-h640/IMG_0982.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_78apese4fKZ_pPsG0pVQhcDGkTv3KJC3gmybuSL5NfZt9d2_ghefDO1ivUD-tROJr9lCJC73A9abIHGc21auLHz4kpI-o9KEuZ7PfRD_Sot_ERKQ0XYzprxHmLtpmEBdzxRUJ1ZADV0/s2048/IMG_0990.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_78apese4fKZ_pPsG0pVQhcDGkTv3KJC3gmybuSL5NfZt9d2_ghefDO1ivUD-tROJr9lCJC73A9abIHGc21auLHz4kpI-o9KEuZ7PfRD_Sot_ERKQ0XYzprxHmLtpmEBdzxRUJ1ZADV0/w480-h640/IMG_0990.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ncPWCLMy6lNFYqgSXDN7gtXOY_2aOQTzy_ftNZCt6gXXbKVUniJ3-EpVGNK01ecaXF9NnvmGhLkfjp77g6kVQL8DOTNZHrZJ_BjnsO83vXBqeO_JI2jNgYIS71qqaZWdz7S8xOA2NvRu/s2048/IMG_0993.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ncPWCLMy6lNFYqgSXDN7gtXOY_2aOQTzy_ftNZCt6gXXbKVUniJ3-EpVGNK01ecaXF9NnvmGhLkfjp77g6kVQL8DOTNZHrZJ_BjnsO83vXBqeO_JI2jNgYIS71qqaZWdz7S8xOA2NvRu/w480-h640/IMG_0993.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8VVdVj0dMBCeSbTV_wR7RQXD5NziNamMRHxKX14U4a8atev5rk66XjT2r33nYyhPEMstux-LjOwnsM89A-yPUGfatmH8Vga99DXxIW8MQDBXKerXLoGYOC8RWhv-8vVidwA3Ht9-qnFJ/s2048/IMG_1038.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8VVdVj0dMBCeSbTV_wR7RQXD5NziNamMRHxKX14U4a8atev5rk66XjT2r33nYyhPEMstux-LjOwnsM89A-yPUGfatmH8Vga99DXxIW8MQDBXKerXLoGYOC8RWhv-8vVidwA3Ht9-qnFJ/w640-h480/IMG_1038.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxOyYFce-0rKb-iQGxFdIcQHgK3tb20No351fAeBWrFtVVKQfXMlNKr6N_yshrD-ChnAt1YXvlw6WawpwhxgXWKdUGFVBpIv85jS7HbpdP9DUX0R9WIbGVY4yKZ8YX3Zp1dVB3vewgboP/s2048/IMG_1057.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxOyYFce-0rKb-iQGxFdIcQHgK3tb20No351fAeBWrFtVVKQfXMlNKr6N_yshrD-ChnAt1YXvlw6WawpwhxgXWKdUGFVBpIv85jS7HbpdP9DUX0R9WIbGVY4yKZ8YX3Zp1dVB3vewgboP/w480-h640/IMG_1057.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm done with my deep dive into Laura Ingalls Wilder in this space (hopefully?). I'll leave you with the latest from our house, where we are frequently treated to ballerina performances. Sometimes one of the dancers plays keyboard while the other entrances us with homemade moves, and performances can include coloring contests judged by one of the ballerinas herself. Parents tie, lose, come in second place - you get the idea. All's fair in love and coloring. My favorite is when a ballerina breaks the fourth wall and joins in the coloring herself. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKs0LRi_mFRslt8dJdAAXrnPGE8sKrQtvpi6dfOHycvSYPqi1eucH_n5kRPqv_sXLVPSrzm2EYUoKHHw1cKpPrZxY0jtma1fhgKLJ906cqE3kimr5lwSohyphenhyphen23JzpITylBzhMnpTCL7VKF/s2048/IMG_0844.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKs0LRi_mFRslt8dJdAAXrnPGE8sKrQtvpi6dfOHycvSYPqi1eucH_n5kRPqv_sXLVPSrzm2EYUoKHHw1cKpPrZxY0jtma1fhgKLJ906cqE3kimr5lwSohyphenhyphen23JzpITylBzhMnpTCL7VKF/w480-h640/IMG_0844.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpvamI0_xSJ_nm1CNAHkEG6TQTXsPoj0I5MUwj1DwbH48Z4OM4Z2mymlnVj8iVpeaDTmDNR4cOw24aiOAz3GKLKsq43WkVzF7pjZMboRqbc7jSyqAjabA_KRFs-HGhfMzwskKYce7W28O/s2048/IMG_1098.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNpvamI0_xSJ_nm1CNAHkEG6TQTXsPoj0I5MUwj1DwbH48Z4OM4Z2mymlnVj8iVpeaDTmDNR4cOw24aiOAz3GKLKsq43WkVzF7pjZMboRqbc7jSyqAjabA_KRFs-HGhfMzwskKYce7W28O/w480-h640/IMG_1098.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></p>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-89801277798175420002020-11-19T20:25:00.001-05:002020-11-20T09:58:31.527-05:00About Last Night<div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo06UaYFHJz3ed2oS2O_wmsq_cCWMq0JQk53j_qdfbO49_geGhF8clzHrmt1-ewP7RLDqUq4ahFzZVmpYrTE1zBfmDPHE9CoeRqc2bMsv481DCrz4-0SBRb5tROI69Xu8tlNYGnTtlWJea/s2048/IMG_0478.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo06UaYFHJz3ed2oS2O_wmsq_cCWMq0JQk53j_qdfbO49_geGhF8clzHrmt1-ewP7RLDqUq4ahFzZVmpYrTE1zBfmDPHE9CoeRqc2bMsv481DCrz4-0SBRb5tROI69Xu8tlNYGnTtlWJea/w640-h480/IMG_0478.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3_zvzbwhU17qBq1izar2hiG-UFDK_sJm4IEJqBeERd4oqVv4ACThW_fJhfqsG7o3vWwPf0mRO_Gh_bo26SHk3Q1QellnXThLtwf69lHXxMLPbWZJEYoAkTrC5g6X7PRfAK02QFUaICP_/s2048/IMG_0480.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3_zvzbwhU17qBq1izar2hiG-UFDK_sJm4IEJqBeERd4oqVv4ACThW_fJhfqsG7o3vWwPf0mRO_Gh_bo26SHk3Q1QellnXThLtwf69lHXxMLPbWZJEYoAkTrC5g6X7PRfAK02QFUaICP_/w640-h480/IMG_0480.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thanksgiving has traditionally been one of my favorite holidays because it's cozy and about food, but I think it's
important now more than ever to acknowledge the actual history of Thanksgiving. As we finally start to bring the skeletons
out of our country's closet, it's useful to remember that Thanksgiving is not a rosy time for everyone and is, in fact, a source of trauma for many native people. <br /><br />"No matter where you are in North America, you are on indigenous land," reminds Sean Sherman, author of <i>The Sioux Chef's Indigenous Kitchen</i>, in <a href="https://time.com/5457183/thanksgiving-native-american-holiday/" target="_blank">this <i>Time</i> piece</a>. It's a beautiful reminder that I find more powerful than ever, as institutions around us increasingly acknowledge this fact. With that in mind, here are two articles that tackle the topic of how we
talk about - and teach children - the history of Thanksgiving in the U.S. The first is a high-level ditty by <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/21/us/thanksgiving-myths-fact-check.html" target="_blank">NYT</a>. The second is more involved, and arguably more stimulating, from <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/thanksgiving-myth-and-what-we-should-be-teaching-kids-180973655/" target="_blank">The Smithsonian</a>. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG5V3wXW8r__3euR0m7oFLvCzI_c_GZ-4tS4trIXPBvPnp9EBTEQswnKZe3JNaeIxKda9NnkbE_EIUgpEGALeqUcyO_8RsFU68FCf-C4lmY2MJQsD7y7GXffqnyCvApz3qP4rSpwYNtvn/s2048/IMG_0502.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfG5V3wXW8r__3euR0m7oFLvCzI_c_GZ-4tS4trIXPBvPnp9EBTEQswnKZe3JNaeIxKda9NnkbE_EIUgpEGALeqUcyO_8RsFU68FCf-C4lmY2MJQsD7y7GXffqnyCvApz3qP4rSpwYNtvn/w480-h640/IMG_0502.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoFnv2NmcUCeDHUZsUClE4a3MEXFGJGy6QMgu6g4v13ZlNqNAoNcHtyxjxxl9u5qlpb_mWUaJQlYCKqo1LSEizSa5xfmsXhwMUuGjH9dLIG3jwbGDgndSbibhfnGPlx-LKDggA1PzQuVJ/s2048/IMG_0492.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXoFnv2NmcUCeDHUZsUClE4a3MEXFGJGy6QMgu6g4v13ZlNqNAoNcHtyxjxxl9u5qlpb_mWUaJQlYCKqo1LSEizSa5xfmsXhwMUuGjH9dLIG3jwbGDgndSbibhfnGPlx-LKDggA1PzQuVJ/w480-h640/IMG_0492.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I grabbed <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Notes-Silencing-Memoir-Lacy-Crawford/dp/0316491551" target="_blank"><i>Notes on a Silencing</i></a>, by <a href="https://lacycrawford.com/bio/" target="_blank">Lacy Crawford</a>, after spying the moody cover and title, and it's weird to say I devoured it. A memoir about Crawford's rape as a young student at a prep school in New England, the book is framed by a discovery of the school's coverup of the incident and its long history of protecting predatory males. While the coverup - and assault - is unconscionable, the real winner here is Crawford's self-awareness as an adult. Her ability to write about that period in her life with such lucidity is a gift. In her hands, the campus itself becomes its own character, and while the subject of the book is utterly disturbing, in Crawford's patient, sturdy retelling, it reads as a sustained, clarifying look at something very difficult to talk about. I highly recommend it.<br /><br />I finally got to read <i>Fleishman Is In Trouble</i>, by <a href="http://www.taffyakner.com/" target="_blank">Taffy Brodesser-Ackner</a>, after eyeing it some time ago at our local bookstore, and it is truly so funny, sexy, and smart. I happen to love the cover, which Tim knocked last night when he picked up the book and said, "Something about this cover really bothers me." Ha! First of all, who asked you? Second of all, who asked you? I'm kidding. It's almost as important what my partner thinks of my covers, since we are faced with each other's books daily, and literally. Instead of finding each other when we walk into a room, we are often met with the cover of someone's latest read. I finished <i>Fleishman</i> late one night, a little stunned by how much the third section reminded me of <a href="https://laurengroff.com/book/fates_and_furies/" target="_blank"><i>Fates and Furies</i></a>, by Lauren Groff. Both have some very powerful things to say about marriage and feminism, and I was enthralled by them both.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRm4GOqPF8URHeOkOYFyzs-HulHUWkyHJvNWkTc4sGWc2KznmRhTnV2RhlOvNYNgZX1R0bsoaqzUuy8vUdshGNXj8mgRav900XgmW41fqjHGz7bmiFNFyUOwhQR36N_hJqsK_8yDMrPb-u/s2048/IMG_0508.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRm4GOqPF8URHeOkOYFyzs-HulHUWkyHJvNWkTc4sGWc2KznmRhTnV2RhlOvNYNgZX1R0bsoaqzUuy8vUdshGNXj8mgRav900XgmW41fqjHGz7bmiFNFyUOwhQR36N_hJqsK_8yDMrPb-u/w640-h480/IMG_0508.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Get ready with your shocked face: Last month, I was elbow deep in books
about classic rock. I finally got around to Stephen Davis's
scintillating account of Led Zepplin's rise to fame, <i>Hammer of the Gods</i>, while simultaneously lapping up Minneapolis-based rock critic Steven Hyden's second book, <i>Twilight of the Gods: A Journey to the End of Classic Rock</i>,
which delves into the mythology behind such monstrously famous
musicians as Neil Young, Mick Jagger, and Paul McCartney. While it
helped me understand why people love Bruce Springsteen so dang much - I
mean, I <i>recognize </i>Bruce, but don't lose my mind over him like some people do, I was ready for <i>Twilight of the Gods</i> to wrap it up when it
bridged into a discussion of Phish. Give me Neil or give me death! Sidebar: I
once heard someone disparaging Neil Young and knew right then our
friendship was going nowhere. But if you like discussions of Dylan and The
Band, early Pearl Jam memories, and jokes about David Grohl's
omnipresence, <i>Twilight of the Gods</i> may be for you. <br /><br />I also watched <i>About Last Night</i> er, one night, suckering Tim into half of it before he gave up and went to bed. I was weirdly moved
by the film, which captured a different era of movie-making and reminded me other films I loved to watch on repeat before I had kids (looking at you, <i>When Harry Met Sally</i>). I
especially liked the junky interiors in <i>About Last Night</i>. No one would deign to let an apartment appear as cluttered as the one that Demi Moore's
character shares with Elizabeth Perkins now. Perkins slays, by the way, in her bathrobe game, and I want a basement or attic office that look like this someday - Jim Belushi leaning smugly over my shoulder, though, optional. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVU4gBQFFD3odozASS-IhPMnbaU4GVwsgf5vLZZS8zqAkt0VVYHl9f9F0K7_B5fD5_DcE2yenvVYoRgviRuT-BkM-zOrxiG0fKDFUSH42HUdxJ8w2XNI44_-yy_FlybACRQhV6lFw1pZn/s771/Screenshot+%2528441%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="771" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVU4gBQFFD3odozASS-IhPMnbaU4GVwsgf5vLZZS8zqAkt0VVYHl9f9F0K7_B5fD5_DcE2yenvVYoRgviRuT-BkM-zOrxiG0fKDFUSH42HUdxJ8w2XNI44_-yy_FlybACRQhV6lFw1pZn/w640-h364/Screenshot+%2528441%2529.png" width="640" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't get me wrong: the heteronormativity in <i>About Last Night</i> is yikesville, but there are enough shots of Rob Lowe deshabille to cover the cost. More importantly, he sports the most amazing<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Smiling-Portrait-About-Night-Aluminum/dp/B01GAG5MBY" target="_blank"> messy mullet</a>. As I watched all I could think was: That is nothing if not well-styled pandemic hair. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5glXLQyFISKGpDdXtlJM7LN_fuZu_dNbn82fQemAarUoUYIc6aeDM5lAsOvzfCSxo22eU_-_gR0CqaU8JkGMdnkuu-L2KSTcIDaT3LqOdm7dTVBeWCjyqmgrTUIgpXaUbRmWjcpWIkgdq/s494/Screenshot+%2528438%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="389" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5glXLQyFISKGpDdXtlJM7LN_fuZu_dNbn82fQemAarUoUYIc6aeDM5lAsOvzfCSxo22eU_-_gR0CqaU8JkGMdnkuu-L2KSTcIDaT3LqOdm7dTVBeWCjyqmgrTUIgpXaUbRmWjcpWIkgdq/w315-h400/Screenshot+%2528438%2529.png" width="315" /></a><br /></span></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Soon after my 80's binge, Tim put on <i>Friends from College</i>, starring Keegan Michael-Key, Fred Savage, Nat Faxon, and a bunch
of actresses I didn't know but came to love, especially Annie Parisse, and we got to rock out to the most egregious 90's playlist known to humanity, including Oasis, Wilco, Counting Crows, and Eels. Normally Michael-Key is a too high-energy for me, but I liked him in this series.
The first episodes were delicious and then, all of the sudden, some were
just off, like an episode that featured drunk driving. I
thought we all agreed there's nothing funny about that?? I haven't seen Fred Savage basically since <i>The Princess Bride</i> and by the end of the series, I was a real stan. <br /><br />Looking for <a href="http://www.lindywest.net/" target="_blank">Lindy West</a>'s newest book, <i>Sh*t, Actually</i>, I came across 2019's <i>The Witches Are Coming</i> and, halfway through the second essay, realized I had
read the whole book and forgotten (!) I really loved it this time
and dog-eared it a thousand times. Everything in it felt important
right now, even more than when the book came out, a year ago. It had me thinking that
West is a gd genius. Her facility with humor and forwarding truly smart arguments in clear, rolling prose cannot be
overstated, imho.<br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAo1FRITMz72O5aLE4oQOv0FsPcy_v4rTSjFAvm308zAywj7A71-TbGptYSfhLNmvqrBI06eE40smnjzksZGQYJ0YsN887oYH3rcSOq5JXkO54hNEFqJzU-F8xkP5CEs3Ujdf5bcla5m6Q/s2048/AG+Rake.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAo1FRITMz72O5aLE4oQOv0FsPcy_v4rTSjFAvm308zAywj7A71-TbGptYSfhLNmvqrBI06eE40smnjzksZGQYJ0YsN887oYH3rcSOq5JXkO54hNEFqJzU-F8xkP5CEs3Ujdf5bcla5m6Q/w480-h640/AG+Rake.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauB925pp2qIZ4hiI0_CUdR7ppZXjru8iRJLXA1rFtnCotkHl2nMW25aVQfZWIQlkVskPIeGZ96D8L4TxQKo4Z74OZ51elRsrvO0iz_Bu6Xn6eK3Ksm3I1klpJewZeaR_tvIrFnWIfmaHU/s2048/frog+search.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauB925pp2qIZ4hiI0_CUdR7ppZXjru8iRJLXA1rFtnCotkHl2nMW25aVQfZWIQlkVskPIeGZ96D8L4TxQKo4Z74OZ51elRsrvO0iz_Bu6Xn6eK3Ksm3I1klpJewZeaR_tvIrFnWIfmaHU/w480-h640/frog+search.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></span></div></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was living in the bathtub for a couple of weeks there, but I'm back to cooking and whatever else I call life these days. Ellis started listening to his parents recently, a welcome miracle in our house though I do still walk into a room and wonder who hired seven dogs to tear it apart. At all times, there are fifty-six books on any surface in a room, including and especially the floor. I watched the <a href="https://www.netflix.com/title/81204624" target="_blank">Dolly Parton documentary</a> on Netflix the day after the election and it soothed me as we waited for the results (and waited, and waited). We have such a long way to go, as a country, but I believe that the mess of this pandemic is making us realize how connected we all are. That's my prayer, at least. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryk9TxqNiTu_3y0raFB1UXQ8BJhvaC2hrZis0BdV-F10ZNT-9JP2CKlj9ghQjCvL8Skz9zF2bAnioTGeea4QpnqKuoWrU6C_KsZp3LhT5LdV5jn7suobRho7UJKxh3raAIooL944fqrBV/s2048/IMG_0552.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryk9TxqNiTu_3y0raFB1UXQ8BJhvaC2hrZis0BdV-F10ZNT-9JP2CKlj9ghQjCvL8Skz9zF2bAnioTGeea4QpnqKuoWrU6C_KsZp3LhT5LdV5jn7suobRho7UJKxh3raAIooL944fqrBV/w480-h640/IMG_0552.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ellis drew an excellent boat on our chalkboard yesterday, which we all praised. With one hand on his hip, he stood back and summarized the effort. He talks pretty low for a kid, and takes a while to get his words out. "Um," he started, several times. Finally he stated his artistic vision: "I tried to do my best." Samantha later reported - accurately - that I respond to any request with the words "One second." It's never <i>okay</i> or <i>sure thing</i>, no. My first response is always some version of <i>hang on</i>, both because I have more than one kid and also because I would lose my mind if I operated on their sped-up, yet somehow glacial, schedules. As Tim likes to joke, no parent ends a pandemic day and says, "Well, that was easy." I'm grateful something good has made it through the fog of our days to Ellis's little brain. I'm sure the message of doing your best - and its even better sister message, accepting what results that yields - came not from some zen advice we imparted to our child but from one of the many books breeding on the tables of our living room right now. Still, it made me happy. <br /></span></span></p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With that, I give you . . . drum roll, please . . . a double laundry basket. Not for amateurs, people! And yes, I took this blurry photo. I tried to do my best. <br /></span></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvoXl83N5sSnBzSyJoIH2ggL1m6LP69wLIrI0a23r_US2b-SvIIBAYuOkrQ31NhQNEgHEvVH9vH3JkErNX5YrWt4TlVqFP6NihCiQ7-phRAF_WLBetnSc0NJK6iXVy9P5ZWKzsPSRkDoL/s2048/IMG_0472.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvoXl83N5sSnBzSyJoIH2ggL1m6LP69wLIrI0a23r_US2b-SvIIBAYuOkrQ31NhQNEgHEvVH9vH3JkErNX5YrWt4TlVqFP6NihCiQ7-phRAF_WLBetnSc0NJK6iXVy9P5ZWKzsPSRkDoL/w640-h480/IMG_0472.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></p></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-66222900496298274472020-10-04T20:40:00.001-04:002020-10-04T22:25:57.796-04:00Gettin Personal <div style="text-align: center;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's October, drizzly and cool, the start of beloved blanket time in our house, although I've been known to ensconce myself in fleece on June mornings, trying to capture some sleepy snippet of comfort. In many ways, it's how I spend my hours these days - not ensconced in fleece, sadly, but in pursuit of some reprieve. They are few and far between, these moments, and I know the world feels the same. <br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggS42iCbyLY_RBQN7qKrbB_FlPF03Ygf7FEi2uKYbQP4ksujGCEp0FHjmNSs8zZbXvCQiIc51BV8T56AaApVqLzwKBOFiEUJpihy0rYjQTGShuaBc9kGqozZEdu-1SUbmVOiFjMcqeQuVy/s2048/IMG_0084.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggS42iCbyLY_RBQN7qKrbB_FlPF03Ygf7FEi2uKYbQP4ksujGCEp0FHjmNSs8zZbXvCQiIc51BV8T56AaApVqLzwKBOFiEUJpihy0rYjQTGShuaBc9kGqozZEdu-1SUbmVOiFjMcqeQuVy/w640-h480/IMG_0084.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NKp5uqtxkifK3vIvULXhzI9BEgl93uun634uFE5xbGRKBOg_hNxCD4WQVZZ_wN2TwVDpMDcTSCBoQq5DaHsfpgDiCWLcK83IYObuXi7PbxksTg8koCmiIMrf4J_I6wqq9OU87m_mSmsM/s2048/IMG_0127.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NKp5uqtxkifK3vIvULXhzI9BEgl93uun634uFE5xbGRKBOg_hNxCD4WQVZZ_wN2TwVDpMDcTSCBoQq5DaHsfpgDiCWLcK83IYObuXi7PbxksTg8koCmiIMrf4J_I6wqq9OU87m_mSmsM/w640-h480/IMG_0127.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">What can I add to the dumpster fire that is our newsscape these days? I'll start by saying I watched <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaaC57tcci0" target="_blank">The Social Dilemma</a></i> last night. Did anyone else think that dilemma was spelled <i>dilemna</i>, until they saw it spelled on the title screen? No? Just me then, great. Well, nothing much surprised me in the documentary about how social media was designed by young (mostly male) programmers with zero <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOL35bOCDWU" target="_blank">discussion of the ethics and responsibilities of unleashing such addictive technologies on the world</a>, but I did find the whole thing really well done. I especially loved where it ended, with many people emphatically stating that we have to change our current business models, which privilege private profit over public good and ecological sustainability, if we are going to make it as a species on the earth. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />I found a few of the predictions made in the film a little dire but, in principle, agreed with almost all the perspectives shared. We are experiencing unprecedented chaos, incivility, and disinformation right now - something anyone with a pulse could tell you - but something I didn't really understand is that it's not an accident. According to the people interviewed - programmers, developers, and Silicon Valley executives, among academics, investors, and veterans of the tech world - these apps were deliberately built on advertising models that reward disinformation, conspiracy theories, and unchallenged niche viewpoints. Scared yet? The more I think about the film, the more I like it, and think it's an important one. <br /><br />You'll be relieved to know that I put back my file cabinet where it belongs. Barring extreme athletic shenanigans - of which my kids are surely capable - it's no longer in its <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2020/01/less-novel-bikram-predator-and-marrige.html" target="_blank">former, prime, bang-your-noggin locale</a>. The linchpin of my decorating scheme (HA), the cabinet is now a tower of novels, nonfiction, and potty training books, and I'm currently embroiled in a discussion with Tim about whether bookshelves can keep me from setting myself on fire in the middle of my home. The real downer of no longer keeping a file cabinet in the middle of my dining room is that I've been forced to split up a cherished nook, where I previously scrawled tomes at an antique desk, hiding while my children gorged on <i>The Octonauts</i>. The nook housed my print of an old clipper ship titled <i>In Full Sail</i>, which we jokingly call <i>Engorged,</i> and now my poor mighty ship is at the helm of a hulking column of banged-up metal. Le sigh.<br /></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsNnVfH2vvnqJRJi1qH5FElqmcVKtHjJwKUhhlOsXUKUrmGHwseZ5zcLkeiBJDcDCZiLdd7gXKhrLy9koVOHurIY5m38psKXeiBNUGPLUmtGmwBs5Wbm73SjzxA8s3TlfnoPV5PsycSX0/s2048/IMG_0167.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsNnVfH2vvnqJRJi1qH5FElqmcVKtHjJwKUhhlOsXUKUrmGHwseZ5zcLkeiBJDcDCZiLdd7gXKhrLy9koVOHurIY5m38psKXeiBNUGPLUmtGmwBs5Wbm73SjzxA8s3TlfnoPV5PsycSX0/w480-h640/IMG_0167.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7jBdIE2kyVPHgO11ZHoy9S7zXdarAP_ngfQZCiSFm8PxogPZeaQZ6V9xNyKMN3OxCajLQxlsn5mObAdp5_a6HkKBXL3QK4uCSxjhQOXjmLlUbaGdquoe573f_Xy3btbSPKtv8Z8zeLcV/s2048/IMG_0168.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7jBdIE2kyVPHgO11ZHoy9S7zXdarAP_ngfQZCiSFm8PxogPZeaQZ6V9xNyKMN3OxCajLQxlsn5mObAdp5_a6HkKBXL3QK4uCSxjhQOXjmLlUbaGdquoe573f_Xy3btbSPKtv8Z8zeLcV/w480-h640/IMG_0168.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwaS3aJMPCMAjEjeKNg3ueU_sIp5l6NgfjOttLM4hFiqc75vB2Yjano63RlDoQhUQUuRJqP9HhfAKglKcGidt33wxJz-yB6Pb_CRThqYjoUXVTk6Y4zjHOZVKy3vcBlG9QBCxu1mDkfnIi/s2048/IMG_0174.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwaS3aJMPCMAjEjeKNg3ueU_sIp5l6NgfjOttLM4hFiqc75vB2Yjano63RlDoQhUQUuRJqP9HhfAKglKcGidt33wxJz-yB6Pb_CRThqYjoUXVTk6Y4zjHOZVKy3vcBlG9QBCxu1mDkfnIi/w640-h480/IMG_0174.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">I watched the Jordan documentary, <i>The Last Dance</i>, a million years ago when it made it to Netflix and got hooked on all the vintage images of my childhood. I feel like one of my brothers even had a poster of Jordan flying through the air with his tongue out, at some point. I liked watching how gracious Jordan was with all the reporters and fans, and was genuinely chilled by scenes of him being swarmed by video cameras, photographers, and sports reporters. But my favorite part was saying to Tim, in a deep voice for weeks after the movie, "It became personal for me," which it seemed like Jordan said about every opponent toward the end of the film. The man can hold a grudge/vendetta, and while that must be a painful way to live, it makes sense that Jordan fabricated reasons to slaughter other people on the court, driving his greatness. It made me want to know more about his childhood, which the movie touched on briefly. Revisiting his father's death on the side of a road, which I remember finding so sad at the time it happened, was just as heartbreaking the second time around.<br /><br />I finally read <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780307455925?aff=penguinrandom" target="_blank"><i>Americanah</i></a>, the Chimamanda Ngozi <a href="https://www.chimamanda.com/" target="_blank">Adichie </a>novel that swept the world by storm a few years ago, and really really loved it. It was like sinking into a Henry James novel or something, such lush scenes, taking their time, such minute detail building to such skillful portraits. I loved reading about the narrator's relatives and all that becomes of them over time, and about the changes that peck at Nigeria and the imagined lives of Nigerians abroad. It's a sweet, funny, and, I thought, very moving novel. I can't recommend it enough.<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBrZ8qTeRksUDmrXF_SpN2UUkDIvrh4dFGQtOs6Qbc2r3cZeK0pa3rinHy2l0_hABZINN5RsBNooyzVb_w1KCU4BvfzJyD_Dsx3Z54FkcZXwcftLYIVmP0dqMQ4UtA5cOBZ7vNwiXYIZS/s2048/IMG_0116.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBrZ8qTeRksUDmrXF_SpN2UUkDIvrh4dFGQtOs6Qbc2r3cZeK0pa3rinHy2l0_hABZINN5RsBNooyzVb_w1KCU4BvfzJyD_Dsx3Z54FkcZXwcftLYIVmP0dqMQ4UtA5cOBZ7vNwiXYIZS/w480-h640/IMG_0116.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtzhULVrM5X5fOnNVvxmQ60wjWxC3D1mxR8XngRp40_prWJLNdDOT6Tm0TzXN9FS9bpBYJLc7PlFFSJB1uumw1JyGeMov_yvGZT-xtnPcjaVOkgU2viMTNN6EkxcJTt4cigeW8B6z9rO4/s2048/IMG_0280.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtzhULVrM5X5fOnNVvxmQ60wjWxC3D1mxR8XngRp40_prWJLNdDOT6Tm0TzXN9FS9bpBYJLc7PlFFSJB1uumw1JyGeMov_yvGZT-xtnPcjaVOkgU2viMTNN6EkxcJTt4cigeW8B6z9rO4/w640-h480/IMG_0280.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKSPW6v3mCLneUW6ovYBbcsoErWfkSiZAB6BqqdV7s-4Kx3awyVwWHHaSsRLnOcDAeyXfj6Hmlqnxcsoine3soI1uQSxzxv537PxN3Pe_PYkAta9ggIwHbxiDqOZVEISqnjrkUkP5gW_I/s2048/IMG_0223.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKSPW6v3mCLneUW6ovYBbcsoErWfkSiZAB6BqqdV7s-4Kx3awyVwWHHaSsRLnOcDAeyXfj6Hmlqnxcsoine3soI1uQSxzxv537PxN3Pe_PYkAta9ggIwHbxiDqOZVEISqnjrkUkP5gW_I/w640-h480/IMG_0223.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdSfaGM78SOfmcQH8-q9nsKSsbyTzJ1QyYnvspPtcCoWh5ZREjbM8kIWowvzIMjGkPAU9Cq42mfGw98Pz1-j_hgP7dHwn69jiqgvZHXAAcpwg_KPYt0aBs-TxfChq3ruqdUhuo7snRIpS/s2048/IMG_0344.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdSfaGM78SOfmcQH8-q9nsKSsbyTzJ1QyYnvspPtcCoWh5ZREjbM8kIWowvzIMjGkPAU9Cq42mfGw98Pz1-j_hgP7dHwn69jiqgvZHXAAcpwg_KPYt0aBs-TxfChq3ruqdUhuo7snRIpS/w480-h640/IMG_0344.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVf9Un8CqDYw5VkLDw4Jb8GfmykfmGQBe1Jkf-_pWjiNVSDIHbgvnfB1R7S4c1vO-h5XsbvhoV-nQC9lNdRh8c1NpBrk03N_MFnpSafFBY33sP4huK2w2wMeUfhKZnLfVAkL8QjYqt7fyN/s2048/Yes+Please.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVf9Un8CqDYw5VkLDw4Jb8GfmykfmGQBe1Jkf-_pWjiNVSDIHbgvnfB1R7S4c1vO-h5XsbvhoV-nQC9lNdRh8c1NpBrk03N_MFnpSafFBY33sP4huK2w2wMeUfhKZnLfVAkL8QjYqt7fyN/w640-h480/Yes+Please.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />I also gobbled up <a href="https://www.abramsbooks.com/product/fixed-stars_9781419742996/" target="_blank"><i>The Fixed Stars</i></a>, Molly Wizenberg's new memoir about divorce, falling in love with women, and making her way as a single mom. When I read her second book, <a href="https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Delancey/Molly-Wizenberg/9781451655117" target="_blank"><i>Delancey</i></a>, about her husband starting a restaurant when Wizenberg wasn't entirely sold on the idea, all I could think was, <i>Uh-oh</i>. I was sad for everyone. It seemed like a situation ripe for falling apart, and <i>The Fixed Stars</i> explores what happened when Wizenberg woke up to her own unhappiness. I'm not saying it was pre-ordained, though I have heard that the restaurant business is rough on families, but I just felt, reading this book, that I was in the presence of someone who was doing a lot of work on herself, asking very hard questions and answering them honestly. It was like standing in a strong, cold, healing wind, and I adored it.<br /><br />I read <a href="https://gardenandgun.com/feature/jericho-rising/" target="_blank">a beautiful portrait</a> of poet Jericho Brown by one of my <a href="http://allisonglock.com/" target="_blank">favorite magazine writers</a>. At first I was just like, Those pictures!! Such drama in the garden!! Who is this person?<br /></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9KRwWmalE5QZ1_E06nsBL0aLqMhUd1zhxmt-d1gMdWrvdhptoqQzrbFlFfFiUoFNdmG8dOHsWdIKeEMJsqGnHBmGHk8kTkNtjwfspxwGUGHEn6V_BIYo8xBEQf-oJq9K_stYsPmfuFkR/s1100/JerichoBrown.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="733" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj9KRwWmalE5QZ1_E06nsBL0aLqMhUd1zhxmt-d1gMdWrvdhptoqQzrbFlFfFiUoFNdmG8dOHsWdIKeEMJsqGnHBmGHk8kTkNtjwfspxwGUGHEn6V_BIYo8xBEQf-oJq9K_stYsPmfuFkR/w426-h640/JerichoBrown.jpg" title="photo: Audra Melton" width="426" /></a></span></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p class="image-credit"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">photo: Audra Melton for Garden & Gun</span><br /></span></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJq8sGHcWVzl_SZ60oM03kzwVYmrKuOZWjnmTgnACq91X6moRT25fU2dFQ3f4QrkqWWnHTr0ESSyuskSK9dmC58_5dytvF6DPMqxsG4ciSaVHS-TVT21St5SML6VyRWdJPP5Fc-qcCX2k/s2048/JerichoBrown2.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJq8sGHcWVzl_SZ60oM03kzwVYmrKuOZWjnmTgnACq91X6moRT25fU2dFQ3f4QrkqWWnHTr0ESSyuskSK9dmC58_5dytvF6DPMqxsG4ciSaVHS-TVT21St5SML6VyRWdJPP5Fc-qcCX2k/w426-h640/JerichoBrown2.webp" width="426" /></a></span></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">photo: Audra Melton for Garden & Gun</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">I couldn't nail those antics if I'd had seven beers. Then I read the piece and was like, okay, wow this guy sounds amazing. He calls friends in the middle of the night to read from what he's writing, and they pick up, because they know how beautiful it will be. And he saves potential lines in baggies, rooms full of tumbleweeds he's typed and sorted by theme which he then makes into poems. I'M IN. I checked out his latest collection, <a href="https://www.coppercanyonpress.org/books/the-tradition-by-jericho-brown/" target="_blank"><i>The Tradition</i></a> and, well, Brown <i>is</i> amazing, and not just for his modeling skillz. He read at a nearby university years ago. Tim went and said Brown was brilliant and gracious, such a pro. So: poets for president? At the very least, I'll take <i>The Tradition</i>'s cover as a flag for my home, please: <br /><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlzocxeHhLjOjeL8_qce7HRouj_EXI7jGxfeu_E_GpVp7bZCy1KnWuj_JpzS_WRw_DBtRK-7rokQqZW7E5il1v7bSONqzbjpaIGoiMar92rgyJLiVwSY5Zvj0E2D2-oAN6DesCH7zhfYf/s600/JBTheTradition.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHlzocxeHhLjOjeL8_qce7HRouj_EXI7jGxfeu_E_GpVp7bZCy1KnWuj_JpzS_WRw_DBtRK-7rokQqZW7E5il1v7bSONqzbjpaIGoiMar92rgyJLiVwSY5Zvj0E2D2-oAN6DesCH7zhfYf/w426-h640/JBTheTradition.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">On a different note, I learned, at the end of August, that <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/postscript/the-tragic-charisma-of-justin-townes-earle" target="_blank">a musician I had a lot of admiration for</a> died, probably from a drug overdose, at home by himself in Nashville. I was heavy-hearted for days. RIP <a href="https://www.bloodshotrecords.com/artist/justin-townes-earle" target="_blank">Justin Townes Earle</a>. <br /><br />Speaking of heavy-hearted, I started <a href="http://www.morgan-jerkins.com/wandering-in-strange-lands" target="_blank">Morgan Jerkins's new book</a>, <i>Wandering in Strange Lands</i>, about a <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/08/03/books/review/wandering-in-strange-lands-morgan-jerkins.html" target="_blank">northerner's exploration of her black family's roots in the south</a>. I would describe Jerkins's writing as more academic or intellectual, but the narrative is driven by personal reflection and I really loved reading about the people she interviewed for her research. I haven't finished the book yet, but I find reading about slave history and de facto historians whose work has been somewhat ignored by state legislature bracing, necessary, and healing in many ways, like reading a travel magazine with all the facts present, all of the ads sent packing. I'm here for this sort of truth-telling, and look forward to reading the rest of the book soon.<br /><br /></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQLzXYs-2j8BZwCO9yZkIhH7jeWOZW2t2kc7v1ApSDuG8pWY8AnqMsB-8t5wqmPvlWMVGmFBMMY1q09Lua19SPFNOF1uVC1F_wJkx2YwU_6RQYCkCsjT_m7dXIOne4vwnz_xnnN4SqdR-/s2048/IMG_0390.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgQLzXYs-2j8BZwCO9yZkIhH7jeWOZW2t2kc7v1ApSDuG8pWY8AnqMsB-8t5wqmPvlWMVGmFBMMY1q09Lua19SPFNOF1uVC1F_wJkx2YwU_6RQYCkCsjT_m7dXIOne4vwnz_xnnN4SqdR-/w640-h480/IMG_0390.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Q2-wyasIhvtDlSd26D4lxGk7VdttnyROssW9VwihRU8EeBy13AAlj6lDfERq0pvvbqFrm8XjHioBNfVHhWzmqdpqYN54dOVn0ve2Ys2W3QKTnjQ_lMV1o1vThaIqSBf4Y46PwMXljuHq/s2048/IMG_0408.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Q2-wyasIhvtDlSd26D4lxGk7VdttnyROssW9VwihRU8EeBy13AAlj6lDfERq0pvvbqFrm8XjHioBNfVHhWzmqdpqYN54dOVn0ve2Ys2W3QKTnjQ_lMV1o1vThaIqSBf4Y46PwMXljuHq/w640-h480/IMG_0408.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLKN83rW2whUW9r5WJiDVmjldwr1lt3nMVgvHjK95GVb0zKuIa9XATgsqXGWjmxK920WhzV6G3-4iABgy5-UN7REJQK5u0jTGq60DyHsya5wnmCZIe3VztoUz1BcVsOU-5dTiaQ-o-isq/s2048/IMG_0458.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYLKN83rW2whUW9r5WJiDVmjldwr1lt3nMVgvHjK95GVb0zKuIa9XATgsqXGWjmxK920WhzV6G3-4iABgy5-UN7REJQK5u0jTGq60DyHsya5wnmCZIe3VztoUz1BcVsOU-5dTiaQ-o-isq/w480-h640/IMG_0458.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBrtKtzBbQ4mFPv5PybVDROYSBEgXukzeRhOAw_gnpKHExocN-hjqTvC6RbtOAEphW1iFoeCK4AytfU2TgOrxo87zRCSiDYxwD0XG_8zWptEUHNDyuhPdFoGdJGNUjZbKbMDnXXfxaRcT/s2048/IMG_0463.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBrtKtzBbQ4mFPv5PybVDROYSBEgXukzeRhOAw_gnpKHExocN-hjqTvC6RbtOAEphW1iFoeCK4AytfU2TgOrxo87zRCSiDYxwD0XG_8zWptEUHNDyuhPdFoGdJGNUjZbKbMDnXXfxaRcT/w480-h640/IMG_0463.JPG" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />In the meantime, we're laundering and grocering and tooth brushing and cooking and Tim is pretending to be a runner and I'm freebasing tumeric while recovering from a mysterious knee injury. Sometimes, sometimes we're breathing. It's a grief-filled time for our country, maybe our whole world, and it's hard work, but maybe necessary, like getting sober. May we find what comforts, what heals. May this chaos be part of the unwinding, so we can choose more consciously how to move forward. May we all keep asking the hard questions. May we find the courage to look at the answers with clear eyes.<br /><br />XOXO<br /><br />Foreday in the Morning<br />by <a href="https://www.jerichobrown.com/" target="_blank">Jericho Brown</a> (from <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781556594861" target="_blank"><i>The Tradition</i></a>)<br /><br />My mother grew morning glories that spilled onto the walkway<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>toward her porch<br />Because she was a woman with land who showed as much by giving it<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>color<br />She told me I could have whatever I worked for. That means she was <br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>an American.<br />But she'd say it was because she believed <br />In God. I am ashamed of America<br />And confounded by God. I thank God for my citizenship in spite<br />Of the timer set on my life to write<br />These words: I love my mother. I love black women<br />Who plant flowers as sheepish as their sons. By the time the blooms<br />Unfurl themselves for a few hours of light, the women who tend them<br />Are already at work. Blue. I'll never know who started the lie that we <br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>are lazy,<br />But I'd love to wake that bastard up<br />At foreday in the morning, toss him in a truck, and drive him under<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>God<br />Past every bus stop in America to see all those black folk<br />Waiting to go work for whatever they want. A house? A boy<br />To keep the lawn cut? Some color in the yard? My God, we leave<br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>things green.<br /></span></span><p></p></div>Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-49161569057043890862020-07-16T09:50:00.001-04:002020-07-16T09:50:55.917-04:00The Worst Hard Time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The title above comes from the Timothy Egan book <a href="https://www.timothyeganbooks.com/the-worst-hard-time" target="_blank"><i>The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived The Great American Dust Bowl</i></a>. In our house, Egan is called <i>Imothy</i>, because a sticker covers part of his name on a book we own. I haven't read <i>The Worst Hard Time</i>, but as I've thought about what to write for a while now, how to offer something meaningful at this historic, tumultuous, grief-filled time, all while living with our sweet, endlessly rambunctious two-year-old, that title keeps coming to me. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />We took a traditional beach trip with family, scheduled at a time when COVID case numbers were trending in the right direction, and undertaken with what might be described as cautious dread on my part. It was great to see everyone and wonderful to luxuriate in the ocean (with social distancing and mask culture fully in place anytime we left the house) but it was somewhat exhausting for me to engage in such a typically beloved activity as travel while contending with the reality of the pandemic. Our kids were saints (until we got home, then their demon sides came out) so it wasn't a problem keeping hands "han-i-tized" as Ellis says, or explaining what we couldn't do this year. Samantha is unbearably accepting about rules, and she mother-hens Ellis is wondrous ways, saving me time and good-guy credit, so that wasn't the complication. But where I normally kick up my feet and read magazines while Tim takes the wheel, driving through states and tunnels and mountains to our destination, I did all of those things without any of the usual lightness. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I did enjoy Lynne Cox's book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Grayson-Lynne-Cox/dp/0156034670/ref=pd_lpo_14_t_0/139-2518128-8310362?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=0156034670&pd_rd_r=96679670-12fc-462f-9b6e-6cbfb985f57f&pd_rd_w=2Aszu&pd_rd_wg=JBDU1&pf_rd_p=7b36d496-f366-4631-94d3-61b87b52511b&pf_rd_r=TFB7K1FDPAYE23SJQ6NM&psc=1&refRID=TFB7K1FDPAYE23SJQ6NM" target="_blank"><i>Grayson</i></a>, which details her experience helping a baby whale find its mother, one morning as Cox was doing a routine swim off the coast of California. I read Cox's <a href="http://www.lynnecox.com/swimming-in-the-sink-2/" target="_blank"><i>Swimming to Antarctica</i>:<i> Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer</i></a> when we lived in Colorado and absolutely loved it. I wasn't sure <i>Grayson</i> would seduce me as much as <i>Swimming to Antarctica</i>, but it did. Cox was the first person to swim between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, shortly before the end of the Cold War, in 1987. The way she describes sea life is truly breathtaking. I also love how casually she discusses swimming for hours at a time. No biggie! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I also chewed through Samantha Irby's new book, <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/576724/wow-no-thank-you-by-samantha-irby/9780525563488/" target="_blank"><i>Wow, No Thank You</i></a>, which had the unintended benefit of making everyone in the room look at its bright green cover, with its cute bunny, then read the title and start laughing before they read a word. In an essay masquerading as a mix-tape she writes about first hearing Pearl Jam in seventh grade: <br /><br />"I was enamored with this idea that love was difficult and stressful, and that torrid relationships fraught with passion and rage were exciting. This was, of course, before I knew how tiring life can be for an adult . . . . 'All the love gone bad turned my world to black'? Swoon city. Eddie was the perfect embodiment of Brokenhearted Sensitive Grunge Man; I lived for him then, and I still do. I would totally listen to him howl about his electric bill."<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Then, because souls are a mystery and mine is shaped like a plaid-lined hunting lodge, I read Mariel Hemingway's memoir, <i>Out Came the Sun: Overcoming the Legacy of Mental Illness, Addiction, and Suicide in My Family</i>. My mom jokingly asked, "Fun read?" Ha! I mean, parts of it read like the celebrity memoir it is, but most of it had an admirably self-aware tone, due in no small part, I'm sure, to its ghostwriter, Ben Greenman. The actress talks about growing up in a family aware of her grandfather's long shadow, being cast in <i>Manhattan</i> when she was a teenager, and about Woody Allen inviting her on a trip, just the two of them. (Gross. She declined.) She writes with love and clarity </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">about parents and siblings</span></span>, and about the father of her children and the marriage that failed between them. I didn't follow Hemingway's career closely<i>, </i>but<i> </i>I found her accounts of it engaging, clear-eyed, and honest.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I read, along with Tim, our bookmarks moving back and forth in the same, slender copy, Gail Griffin's memoir of losing her husband, <i>Grief's Country</i>. I've long had an admiration for Griffin, a retired professor in our town who wrote a book about a murder-suicide on the small campus where she worked called <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Events-October-Murder-Suicide-Campus-Painted/dp/0814334725" target="_blank"><i>The Events of October</i></a>. My neighbor, a retired mail carrier who knows all the writers (and letter writers) in town, lent me a copy of <i>The Events of October</i> when we first moved in, and though the subject is grim and not something I'd normally gravitate toward, the writing was so clear, and the research so well-organized, that Griffin looms over my time in this town, not unlike the oddly comforting tower belonging to the still-functioning mental hospital. <br /><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Griefs-Country-Memoir-Michigan-Writers-ebook/dp/B07W6XNSWS" target="_blank"><i>Grief's Country</i></a> is so masterfully lyrical, it does not feel like a memoir of grief so much as a poetic transcription of life. It's hard to describe, but from the first poem to the closing chapter, reading it felt like a form of prayer. I didn't want to miss a word, as in meditation, you don't want to miss a breath. Not that I'm getting any meditation "done" over here. Anytime I start to relax, it's like a bell rings in the other room and Ellis comes running across the floor, gleefully inquiring whether I'm "stretching." He then climbs onto me in some bizarre posture and starts butting me with his little ram head. As I try to do forward bends that don't squish his head against the floor, I think of something Tim once pointed out, while watching the awkward dance: no one with a toddler seeks out goat yoga.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Sometime this spring, when our library was still closed, I put Chris Rush's memoir <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Light-Years-Memoir-Chris-Rush/dp/0374294410/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" target="_blank"><i>The Light Years</i></a> on hold and forgot about it. When the library opened, one of my favorite employees chastised me for trying to check out too many books, many items over the new, quarantine-friendly limit. This woman sat like a queen behind a giant sneeze guard. When I told Tim how amazing she looked, he joked, "The shield was already implied," because the regal condescension rolling off this woman is something to behold. But she checked out my books (god bless the queen!) and I gathered what was left after I returned the books I no longer wanted, having spent odd hours at night requesting books and movies I immediately forgot. What was left, after returning these, were five thousand Berenstain Bears books to take home for Samantha, and <i>The Light Years</i>, which I only dimly recalled. <br /><br />Wow, was I delighted by what I found behind the pretty, neon cover. A book about drug addiction, Christian drug dealers, the American desert, Catholicism, growing up gay, a father full of hatred and his own trauma-turned-alcoholism, <i>The Light Years</i> was so surprisingly present, so impeccably-worded and warmhearted, I fell into my own addiction with it. I finished it one night as Tim put the kids to bed and I swung in the hammock, toes trailing the grass, face turned to the sky. It was truly mesmerizing, both because of Rush's focus on his family relationships and his restrained, whiz-bang prose. I was hooked from the moment I this description of his parents and the house they lived in:<br /><br />"Finished in '56, our house was my father's midcentury masterpiece. Featured in newspapers and fashion shoots, our house was new, new, new! - no attic, no heirlooms, no trace of the past. Every detail was carefully managed by Norma Farrow Rush, the pale-skinned daughter of a taxidermist. She no longer had to do any dirty work for her father; the house was her shining rebuke."<br /><br /><i>Her shining rebuke</i>! That will be the title of my poetry book, when it comes out.<br /><br />That's all. Tim has a story in <i>Quarterly West</i>. You can read it <a href="https://www.quarterlywest.com/issue-100/conrad" target="_blank">here</a>. I have a story in the forthcoming issue of <i>Tampa Review (</i>59/60). It's called Red Town and I only worked on it for, oh, about a decade. I'm beyond thrilled that it found a home, as they say, and more than that, I'm happy that one of its main characters, a postman who carries mail by mule, is finding delivery. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the summer, frogs like to sneak into our house. Tim found this guy early one morning.</span></span></td></tr>
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-67145110085301412942020-05-17T18:50:00.001-04:002020-05-17T19:02:54.956-04:00Stung by a Bee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few days ago I got stung by a bee and it was the most exciting thing that's happened in months. I was slightly allergic to bees as a kid, so I ran to the kitchen and clutched an EpiPen, uncertain whether my rapid breathing was some kind of chemical reaction or merely from the shock of the sting. Turns out, I have a great imagination. I was fine and tried to model how cool you can be when an insect stings you. Samantha was my companion through the whole ordeal, and after we knew I was okay she pointed out where I was and wasn't allowed to garden. "I don't want you to get hurt," she said, a dreamy thing for your kid to say, or maybe just self-interest at work. If something happened to mama, wth would the rest of her day look like?<br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I've been wanting to write, but also, like, not, because who needs more "content" right now? We're flooded with it. One of the most disturbing parts of the COVID-19 pandemic has been watching my email inbox shift from normal garbage to pandemic garbage. I don't mean to criticize. It just reminded me how strong the grasp of capitalism is in our country. As the coronavirus worms its way into every community, marketing finds new host bodies, maintaining its strength in the guise of offering information or connection. <br /><br />I know, how cheery can I be? Tim is one of the funniest people I know. He makes me belly laugh several times a day and I also sometimes accuse <i>him</i> of being too dark. Ha! His response is that I'm the cynical one, that I don't tolerate dark humor because it hits too many nerves. (Things aren't always mud-slingy in our house, and anyway, the mud is slung with a very light touch. It's more of a mud <i>spritz</i>.) In the end, I think he's probably right, and things like my paragraph above make me see it clearly.<br /><br />Now, with confessions of darkness behind us, do we begin with the absolute rot I've been enjoying on Netflix, or with the books that have been bathing my soul? At the risk of sounding high and mighty, I'll start with the books. Just know that <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2020/03/welcome-to-jungle.html" target="_blank">my foray</a> into <i>Love Is Blind</i> was the tip of the iceberg and, if you opened the top of my children's heads right now, you'd find Kwazii and Shellington from <i>The Octonauts</i> staring up at you. I'm not proud of this, but I'm also not ashamed. Quarantine is driving the bus, after all.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It feels like a year ago that I read <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/978-1-5247-3199-1" target="_blank"><i>The Girl Who Never Read Noam Chomsky</i></a>, by <a href="http://janacasale.com/" target="_blank">Jana Casale</a>, but it was probably back in March. First of all, I'm jealous of Casale's name. I'm sure it's her real name, but still. It's a good one. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I really loved this
book. It was girly, literary, warm, funny, and really really smart. I
love the way it combines normal life with thoughts about art and
literature, and how the books in the heroine's life are almost their own
characters. Sometimes I worry that I like books written for other
writers - my love for <i>Less</i>, for example, had me wondering if
others less acquainted with the farces of literary circles would find it
as delicious and heartwarming. But then I think about a character in <i>Less</i>, a rich author, who shows up wearing billowing linen pants and
I think, well, who doesn't like a good roast of linen-wearers? This from a woman who can't WAIT for warmer weather in Michigan so I can don my white linen pants.<br /><br />Another book I loved, that is way dark and dangerously well-written, was <i>Molly Bit</i>,
which I spied at our local bookstore, a store I'm proud of because they
closed their doors voluntarily, before the governor's stay-at-home
order. A satire of Hollywood's savagery, Molly Bit had me flipping to Dan
Bevacqua's author photo in the back frequently, staring at it, whispering, <i>Where did you come from? How did you get so good?<br /></i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I waited a minute before diving into Sally Rooney's <i>Normal People</i>, waiting, I suppose, for the oxygen needed to combust inside the pages of another one of her gorgeous books. I wrote about <i>Conversations with Friends</i> <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2020/03/welcome-to-jungle.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and while I still love that book, it's possible I liked <i>Normal People</i> even more. I also liked thinking about Rooney's habits as a writer, how both books center around secrets, and explore the intimacy that blooms within them. Both books are just so well done, and I have such respect for Rooney's ability to explore all the angles of real, physical, emotional intimacy. Friends keep mentioning the newly dropped <i>Normal People</i> on Hulu. Pardon my disbelief, but I'm skeptical that anything on screen could touch the richness and anticipatory anguish Rooney creates on the page. Curmudgeon alert!<br /><br />I made it to Eula Biss's <i>Notes from No Man's Land</i>, which I realized I had read parts of before. It's still exquisite, and I appreciate being inside the world of such a fascinating observer and, if I may say, stylist. I hadn't realized before how much Biss worships at Didion's altar. Revisiting <i>Notes from No Man's Land</i> felt like sitting next to a scholar of Didion, or a younger relative, a joke I'm sure I reach for because, somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I'll watch <i>The Center Will Not Hold</i>, the documentary about Joan Didion on Netflix right now, produced by her nephew, Griffin Dunne.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I've been re-reading some lately, mostly short stories, and when I have the courage to sit for longer periods, I've got <i>Seating Arrangements</i> on my shelf, which will be a revisit of a favorite Maggie Shipstead book, an author I revere and mentioned in <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2016/12/bon-appetempt-sut-nam-bonsai-gift-guide.html" target="_blank">this joint gift guide with Amelia</a>. Talk about sweet author names, re: Shipstead. Why didn't I get something nautical in my name? Thinking how to work <i>whale</i> or <i>cephalopod</i> into mine now . . . .<br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I just ordered my friend Corinne's <a href="https://arsenalpulp.com/Books/W/We-Had-No-Rules" target="_blank">book </a>and am still swooning after reading her beautiful interview with <i>them</i>, found <a href="https://www.them.us/story/read-me-we-had-no-rules-corinne-manning" target="_blank">here</a>. I also ordered Laura Munson's new novel, <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781982605247" target="_blank"><i>Willa's Grove</i></a>, because I truly adore Munson's spirit and flow-y prose. Flow-y is a word, right? I also can't wait for Molly Wizenberg's newest memoir, <a href="https://www.abramsbooks.com/product/fixed-stars_9781419742996/" target="_blank"><i>The Fixed Stars</i></a>, about the major shifts that occurred when she discovered, while married to a man with whom she co-owned two businesses and as a mom to a toddler, that she needed to drastically rearrange her life. I adore Molly's writing (so much so that I pretend we're on a first-name basis) and I'm curious how she will write without the structure of a recipe-laden book. I have total faith in her ability to do so, but, I dunno, the new book sounds pretty thrilling. Wizenberg is one of those authors I'm probably always going to look forward to reading, because she seems embrace the examination of her life so fully, and I'm sort of fascinated by her ability to do so.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Did <i>your </i>dad stuff a doughnut hole full of candles for your birthday, when you were a kid?</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OSyYrf9A9pbJVDPTSsdXmQsOiBC8hZobrC0Bbf6PVChGSid5hB4vfIZh8PaydYLKnV9DYrauvW0uZ0lmrrQe2CY091e6_m7ww-bTSqtEeCZ4Qo7T37PhlynTuApIPPdDaMTaAtTwc9Ox/s1600/IMG_9596.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OSyYrf9A9pbJVDPTSsdXmQsOiBC8hZobrC0Bbf6PVChGSid5hB4vfIZh8PaydYLKnV9DYrauvW0uZ0lmrrQe2CY091e6_m7ww-bTSqtEeCZ4Qo7T37PhlynTuApIPPdDaMTaAtTwc9Ox/s640/IMG_9596.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking of fascination, do I dare tell you that Tim and I watched all of <i>Too Hot to Handle</i> on Netflix? It's TRUE. I'd like to blame quarantine (and Tim will, in a heartbeat) but I have to say that watching cheesy settings and people offering up their souls to reality TV is strangely compelling. Is this how fans of <i>The Bachelor</i> feel? I think I finally understand. This is like the summer I realized I wanted to order Oprah's magazine and went from subscribing to <i>Shambhala Sun</i>, a magazine about Buddhism, to happily reading reviews of vacuums and A-line skirts, my legs kicking behind me as I read on my belly, in a backyard on the coast of North Carolina, in grad school. And isn't that what life is all about - finding who you really are, at the bottom of all your ideas? <br /></span></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-23242851921617284432020-03-20T12:54:00.002-04:002020-05-13T10:49:38.031-04:00Welcome to the Jungle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;"><br />Greetings from the apocalypse. My notes for this post disappeared weeks ago which is appropriate. Half of the people in our house have the flu, and those standing don't look so hot. But it's okay because I started watching <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/on-television/love-is-blind-is-offensive-to-human-dignity-which-is-key-to-its-success" target="_blank"><i>Love Is Blind</i></a> a few nights ago - though I can't believe I'm leading with this. It's a Netflix show about people who get to know each other by talking in "pods," who propose to each other without ever meeting in person. It's ludicrous and fun, and I watched while cattily positing who was going to make it and who was not. The whole experience has been a welcome distraction from the general stress of a pandemic, and the specific stress of two fevered, whining children. <br /><br />Another distraction has been, quelle surprise, a rock bio about Axl Rose called <i>W.A.R. - The Unauthorized Biography of William Axl Rose</i>. I can't explain why reading about people who soak their lives in adrenaline and chemicals soothes me so much, but it sure does. </span><span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="font-size: normal;">I drank it down. </span> A while back, I heard GN'R bassist Duff McKagan on Marc Maron's podcast, on this episode of <a href="http://www.wtfpod.com/podcast/episode-1021-duff-mckagan?rq=duff" target="_blank">WTF</a>, and he just sounded so dang sweet. Of course, the real reason I picked up the book was because of the stigma and enigma that is Axl Rose himself. <br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Moving on. At someone's suggestion, I read <i>Conversations with Friends</i> by Sally Rooney and really, really dug it. The title is not my favorite, but who asked me? The ending was also a little wobbly for me, but I consumed the book in great big draughts, including one stint when I sat down at eleven at night, knowing somewhere in the back of my mind that I would stay up reading until I finished it, which I did with no regrets. <br /><br />I picked up a pretty cookbook called <i>The New Sugar & Spice: a Recipe for Bolder Baking</i> after hearing the author, <a href="http://lovecommacake.com/" target="_blank">Samantha Seneviratne</a>, on my friend Amelia's <a href="https://www.momragepodcast.com/season-3" target="_blank">podcast</a>. <i>The New Sugar & Spice</i> has a narrative bent and is broken into these sections: Peppercorn & Chile, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, Clove & Cardamom (my fave), Vanilla, and Ginger. The book is infused with histories of all the spices, has beautiful photos, and was deeply relaxing to read, though I haven't baked from it yet. Seneviratne's second book, <i>The Joys of Baking: Recipes and Stories for a Sweet Life</i> is on my list to read. <br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;"><br />I read Ronan Farrow's<i> Catch and Kill </i>shortly after reading <i>She Said</i>, which I wrote about <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2020/01/less-novel-bikram-predator-and-marrige.html" target="_blank">here</a>, and really loved <i>Catch and Kill</i>'s style. Since then, I've heard Farrow describe his "preparation" for writing the book (read: procrastination), which was to plow through stacks and stacks of novels, in an effort to structure his own book with as much suspense as possible. I appreciated this effort and think it paid off. Though I knew much of the information in the book already, its pacing and the way its details rolled out made it a compelling read, indeed. <br /><br />I have heard Farrow intimate, in a few podcasts, that he's somewhat neurotic and an overachiever, and he writes in the book that he was no picnic to be around, when all the events of the book were unfolding. But it is plain fun for me when a young writer reaches so big and sticks the landing. It reminds me of how enamored I was of Karen Russell's debut, <i>St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves</i>, although let's be real, the wolf on Russell's cover won probably half of my devotion.<br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">Speaking of youth, and its passage - while glancing right past my latest birthday in February - I watched <i>Echo in the Canyon</i>, which was not at all what I thought it would be. I was expecting a deep dive on musical groups coming out of L.A. in the 60's, and while I got a little of that, it was more of a celebration of a concert put on by Jacob Dylan in 2015 celebrating the 50th year anniversary of the Byrds's <i>Mr. Tambourine Man</i>. There were some beautiful parts to the movie, including some heavenly shots of Tom Petty (RIP) discussing musicians who influenced everyone, and there were details about Neil Young that made him look a little jerkish, which I welcome even though he has been one of my idols. But discussion of Joni Mitchell was nowhere to be found and, in some ways, the whole thing was a little wan, though still worth a watch. There were shots of David Crosby saying wonderfully arrogant things, making the assertion he made in <i>Remember My Name</i>, which I wrote about <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2019/11/foghorn.html?m=0" target="_blank">here</a>, that Dylan went electric after watching the Byrds rehearse with electric guitars one day. But probably the most touching scene was when Steven Stills was leaving a studio and clasped hands with Jacob Dylan. The casual intimacy between them was moving. It seemed simple and real and made me wonder, because of his father, if all these musical heroes are somehow family friends, too. <br /><br />Other books on my side tables right now: Sally Rooney's book <i>Ordinary People</i> and Dani Shapiro's <i>Devotion.</i> <i>Notes from No Man's Land</i> by Eula Biss, and Muriel Hemingway's memoir <i>Out Came the Sun</i>, about mental illness, depression, and addiction in the Hemingway clan, await me on a shelf behind my desk, and I may never finish any of them. Staying home all day with sick kids doesn't undo me the way it would some. If I never had to get in a car and drop another kid off somewhere for the rest of my life, I would not miss it. But the whining and clinging is not much fun, and I find myself unable to accomplish anything beyond drinking coffee some days. <br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;"><br />March is supposedly Women's History Month and while I don't love contrived, calendrical reasons to become more conscious, I haven't minded perusing <a href="https://shop.nationalgeographic.com/products/women-the-national-geographic-image-collection" target="_blank"><i>National Geographic</i>'s Women book</a>, which came out last fall and which I recently checked out with some hefty suspicion. I don't always love <i>National Geographic</i>'s take on the world, and I'm never eager to delve into human beings like they are exotic zebras, but there are some beautiful pictures in the book and nice interviews in the middle of it, including one with Oprah. It's also infinitely interesting to read about how different generations of women have dealt with sexism in their careers. Some older women tend to credit their success with their ability to ignore unfavorable environments, to stand up for themselves, without fail, or to put their heads down and work. I'm sure there is much truth in these insights, but it also, at times, can read as slightly shaming for women who don't have unshakeable confidence, who aren't or weren't able to live so boldly. <br /><br />Friends, that's all I've got. These are strange times, globally, and also for me, personally. Ellis has some minor health problems that have been tethering me close to home, even before all the semi-quarantining, and it can be overwhelming. Like most of us, I'm ready for some sunshine and some easier air to breathe. <br /></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: normal;">P.S. My sister-in-law sent me a link to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmzjCPQv3y8" target="_blank">this series</a> that children's author and illustrator Mo Willems is doing right now. We watched it yesterday, and it was a true lift. There's also something endearing about how Willems's face, beard, and glasses seem to be taking on the spirit of Theodor Geisel. <br /><br />Speaking of Dr. Seuss, here is a picture of him in his office. Would you ever in your life get a thing done if that was where you worked? <br /><br /> </span></span></span></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-71297643303169554802020-01-21T21:53:00.005-05:002020-01-21T21:53:57.483-05:00Less (the novel), Bikram (the predator), and Marrige Story (the movie)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I finally read <i>Less </i>(there's a confusing sentence!), <a href="https://andrewgreer.com/" target="_blank">Andrew Sean Greer</a>'s sixth book and winner of the 2018 Pulitzer prize for fiction. It's so perfectly toned, in my opinion - hilarious and musical, elegant and bouyant - at one point, I asked Tim to look up how many other books Greer had written. I knew I was in great hands when the main character, the eponymous Arthur Less, interviews a science fiction writer named H. H. H. Mandern. That extra H. had me in stitches. The rest of the book is chock full of jokes and lines I wish I had written. When Tim reported that Greer had published five books before writing <i>Less</i>, I was like, "Good. He can have this perfection, then." We also marveled at how simple the plot is, in the end, and what a delightful read it was, in spite of that. In Tim's words: you can win a Pulitzer for that? But it's so good and was the sort of book I almost started rereading the second I hit the last page.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Last week, a friend of ours visited and asked, of the filing cabinet in the foyer, "Is this new?" as if a used, battered, file chest belongs in everyone's front hall. In truth, we had some electrical rewiring done in December and I shoved it there so the electricians could drill into our walls and ceilings and find all manner of foils to our best laid plans (they took care of the important things, though, like some seriously "vintage" wiring). Did Ellis run smack into the filing cabinet earlier this week and fall onto the floor, first going up in the air like a cartoon football player before landing, getting up, and stating, "I fell down"? <br /><br />He did. Is the cabinet still in the foyer? <br /><br />It is. What can I say? He's a champ.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I just finished <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/She-Said-Breaking-Harassment-Movement/dp/B07RLT6BG8/ref=sr_1_2?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIuoHYqfSS5wIVEr7ACh3dCwPMEAAYASAAEgLYjPD_BwE&hvadid=409987901234&hvdev=c&hvlocphy=9017288&hvnetw=g&hvpos=1t1&hvqmt=e&hvrand=10578753106941397372&hvtargid=kwd-1007361230632&hydadcr=22560_11319289&keywords=she+said+jodi+kantor&qid=1579548406&s=books&sr=1-2" target="_blank">She Said</a>,</i> by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey, about how they broke the Harvey Weinstein sexual harrassment story for the <i>New York Times</i>. It wasn't as dense as <i>All the President's Men</i> - which I wrote about reading <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/04/" target="_blank">here</a> - but reminds me of that book at times, if only for my continued disbelief that I can drink in all those pesky reporting details, something I couldn't have spent ten minutes on twenty years ago. Like watching <i>The Great British Baking Show</i>, I believe part of the thrill is watching <i>other</i> <i>people</i> work hard. <br /><br />By chance, I listened to <a href="https://armchairexpertpod.com/pods/ronan-farrow" target="_blank">Ronan Farrow</a>'s interview on the<i> <a href="https://armchairexpertpod.com/about" target="_blank">Armchair Expert</a></i> podcast in the middle of reading <i>She Said</i>, which was trippy in that the authors's investigative reporting overlaps with his quite a bit. <br /><br />Even trippier, Tim and I watched the documentary <i>Bikram: Yogi, Guru, Predator</i>, about the Bikram Yoga founder's history of sexually assaulting young women who attend his teacher trainings, and the similarities between Bikram and Weinstein are alarming. Especially alarming is the way each tries to break initial boundaries by requesting - and in the case of Bikram, always getting - massages. And yes, Bikram is still holding worldwide teacher trainings, and no, hasn't been criminally prosecuted.<br /><br />And now, please appreciate my seamless transition into Noah Baumbach's directorial work! At <a href="https://www.momragepodcast.com/about" target="_blank">my friend Amelia</a>'s insistence (er, request), I watched <i>Marriage Story</i>, which I had already been eager to see after my other friend <a href="http://www.corinnemanning.com/" target="_blank">Corinne </a>- whose new book is on <a href="https://bookmarks.reviews/15-of-the-most-anticipated-books-by-lgbtq-authors-for-the-first-half-of-2020/?fbclid=IwAR1P08Rva0rgqhkjA0BTczKBGp22maELZpmKynHzDAm11VHw-BWgfKlqw44" target="_blank">this ace list on Lit Hub</a> - posted hilarious things on the internet about yelling at the screen when Adam Driver was singing and, maybe, I can't remember, turning the whole thing off. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even before that, though, I was prepared not to like <i>Marriage Story</i>. On the day we watched it, I complained to Tim that Noah Baumbach gets credit for being <i>good</i> when really, he's just <i>moody</i>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I still say so, but I did cry sometimes while watching <i>Marriage Story</i> and was very moved by much of it. The idea of figuring out custody in a divorce causes me such mourning, I'm surprised I didn't shake all the way through it. Laura Dern was great - she plays hot, shouting, lady lawyers real good these days, don't she? - and while I sort of want to throw a rock at the screen whenever I see Scarlett Johansson, I loved her high-waist pants and indignation, and the idea of taking my child to live in a big double bed at my mother's sunny Californian house (my mother doesn't live in California) fills me with instant calm. <br /><br />One thing <i>Marriage Story</i> makes clear, though: there isn't a thing to be done about Adam Driver's hair.</span></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After watching the movie over a two-night spread, I told Tim that <i>Marriage Story</i> is good at times but really just made me glad I'm not getting a divorce. Tim responded that it made him glad he's not Noah Baumbach. Ha!</span></span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking of men with healthy egos, at the gym the this week a man of retirement age pointed at the numbers on my treadmill and said I had forty minutes to go to catch up with the numbers on his. Then he leaned over and added, "I was on the elliptical for an hour before that, so double it." I laughed because a) I hoped he was kidding b) wouldn't it be nice to have so many hours every day?<br /><br />At the suggestion of <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2019/12/demi-moore-saeed-jones-sharon-olds-and.html" target="_blank">my grad school professor who teased me for wearing a huge down coat in class</a>, I'm reading Sarah Ruhl's <i>100 Essays I Don't Have Time to Write</i>, a title I can really get behind. In the very first essay, Ruhl, a mother of three children (and playwright of ten plays), says Virginia Woolf's <i>A Room of One's Own</i> needs "a practical addendum about locks and bolts and soundproofing." I agree. She then writes: <br /><br />"There was a time, when I first found out I was pregnant with twins, that I saw only a state of conflict. When I looked at theater and parenthood, I saw only war, competing loyalties, and I thought my writing life was over. There were times when it felt as though my children were annihilating me . . . and finally I came to the thought, All right, then, annihilate me; that other self was a fiction anyhow."<br /><br />I love that line so much. <i>All right, then, annihilate me</i>. <br /></span></span><br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
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<![endif]--><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Ruhl
continues: "I found that life intruding on writing was, in fact,
life. And that, tempting as it may be for a writer who is also a parent,
one must not think of life as an intrusion. At the end of the day,
writing has very little to do with writing, and much to do with life. And
life, by definition, is not an intrusion."<br />
<br />
And here I'd like to include something I read in Jodi Kantor's section of the
acknowledgements at the back of <i>She Said</i>. Speaking to the youngest
of her two daughters, Kantor writes: "Violet, you were only a year and a
half old when we started, and your innocence made you my refuge. Parents
are supposed to console their children, but I frequently found solace in your
curls, songs, made-up words, discoveries, and above all, in the fierceness of
your embrace." <br />
<br />
This is something I have often felt. Not
that my children console me, although they do.
I can't count the number of times Samantha brought me seltzers during my
pregnancy with Ellis and in the weeks after I had him, when I was too ensconced
in nursing to get one myself. But the
presence of their little bodies in a set of pajamas, their breath curling
against me in a dark room, soothes me in unquantifiable ways. And while
the mere suggestion of one of them whining causes the hairs on my head to stand
up, and my temperature raises four degrees whenever I hear a child cry now, these two pull me toward a beastly comfort that is too delicious, and too
abundant, to deny. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/3602602/?claim=4g7uzcy8vkq" target="_blank">Follow Sut Nam Bonsai on Bloglovin. </a></span> </span></span></div>
Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-69140229026355291342019-12-20T09:41:00.000-05:002019-12-20T09:41:10.811-05:00Demi Moore, Saeed Jones, Sharon Olds, and Le Divorce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">Hello there. C'est moi, the lady of the house, who marks days by the number of Costco pizzas we've heated. It's nearing The Big Day, by which I mean Christmas, of course, a day we normally spend traveling and/or exchanging gifts with my in-laws whilst wrapped in fleece blankets. Enrobed in them, if you will (see <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2019/11/foghorn.html" target="_blank">last post</a>'s picture of Ellis and I reading under one). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">True story: when Tim and I first started dating, we spent a Christmas with his family, and his parents thought there was something wrong with my health because I wore a blanket around the house like a toga. Writing that sentence makes me see that it is a weird thing to do and reminds me of a grad school professor who made fun of me - lovingly - for wearing a hat and down coat in class, at a school on the coast of North Carolina, in the spring. And while a former babysitter coined a phrase for this habit of mine, calling it our "blanket culture" and taking up the, ha, mantle herself in our home, my point stands. Tim's parents worried the first time they spent a week with me, wondering if I was hearty enough as a person. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, I am and I'm not, it turns out. For reasons I can't quite identify, I feel like I can't catch my breath lately. Oh wait, I live with a two-year-old, which is like sharing a small apartment with a roommate who's on drugs. There have been few reprieves this fall, but one was reading Demi Moore's memoir, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Inside-Out-Memoir-Demi-Moore/dp/0062049534" target="_blank"><i>Inside Out</i></a>. Was I surprised by how much I liked it? I was. I kept wanting to google things like, <i>ghost writer demi moore</i>, because the voice was so consistent and clear, something that's hard for even a seasoned writer to accomplish, but something that felt super impressive for someone who never mentioned liking or reading books, although I'm sure she does and, also, it's not like you have to be trained in literature to understand your own story. <br /><br />Anyway, I was genuinely curious about different facets of Moore's life. I wanted to know how she met and married Bruce Willis (who is a Pisces! never would have guessed that) and how the heck she ended up with Ashton Kutcher, who doesn't come out looking so great in this book (shocker). Organized chronologically - with a weird frame about Moore falling apart after the dissolution of her second marriage - a lot of <i>Inside Out</i> was spent on Moore's childhood, which was anything but ideal. The narrative sort of sped up once she started getting acting roles, and I found myself almost mourning as we left the slow pacing of her early years. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I appreciated her ability to examine why she and Willis broke apart as partners, something she identified, on her end, as an inability to really open up to him. He had his own flaws in the marriage (as we all do?) but Moore doesn't go into them, which feels both appropriate and maybe a reflection of the health of their relationship, even after divorce. When she said that one of the things she's most proud of is their divorce, by which she meant their devotion to their children and their efforts to keep acrimony out of the mix, I genuinely teared up.<br /><br />In fact, I teared up a lot reading this book, and I think that's one of the things I enjoy most about memoirs, how they sneak up on me and burst my hear open.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I devoured <a href="https://twitter.com/theferocity?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor" target="_blank">Saeed Jones</a>'s beautiful memoir, <i>How We Fight for Our Lives</i>. I've been a fan of him for awhile (who doesn't admire someone who goes by The Ferocity as a twitter handle?!). I mean, he seems very smart and also has good hair. Kidding! I don't follow people based on hairstyles - Pauly Shore would be my hero if I did - but I do, secretly, admire Jones's hair. <br /><br />Anyway, he writes like a mother and his second book is awesome. <br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/My-Korean-Deli-Risking-Convenience/dp/B008SLEODC" target="_blank"><i>My Korean Deli: Risking It All for a Convenience Store</i></a>, by Ben Ryder Howe, a former editor of the Paris Review, about opening a deli with his wife's family, and it was hilarious and smart and full of heart. It's also about in-laws, a topic I love to see handled well. I love mine, of course, but let's face it. Families are an endless source of humor. I know someone, in fact, who was asked to swing by a random farm and pick up a dead goat on the way to Thanksgiving this year. (They declined.) <br /><br />Finally, and perhaps dovetailing with themes of family and divorce, I checked out Sharon Olds's book of poetry called <i>Stag's Leap</i>, which she wrote after her husband left her, after thirty years of marriage. Owee. Just typing that sentence blows a hole in my chest. These poems are as moving, unnerving, and wondrous as any meditation on loss I've read in awhile. I found myself reading them biographically, that is, to find out the story behind the divorce, but of course what's more important is how beautiful the poems are themselves, how masterful a poet Olds truly is. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I have to admit, sometimes I'm irritated by some of her older poems. She writes about sex <i>a lot</i> and, historically, her husband's body featured in them heavily. Reading this collection about losing the man she worshiped her whole life - at least that's how it felt to me on the page, in my memory of reading her work as a younger woman - was sort of a fascinating experiment. I kept ping-ponging between my own relationship with how-much-to-tell and how-much-to-keep-private, my own separations of art and life. I found myself wondering, at times, if the blurred lines in Olds's work <i>caused </i>any of her current predicament. It's a very human question - <i>did I cause this pain and suffering?</i> - and also, I think, not the right one. I mean, who cares what caused her current situation? It's none of my business. Also, sometimes some things just happen. <br /><br />As a writer, though, someone who wants to convey the truth of my life while also respecting the people in it, I found this exploration somewhat potent. And so, this poem from the collection blew my mind. <br /><br />The Easel <br />by Sharon Olds<br /><br />When I build a fire, I feel purposeful - <br />proud I can unscrew the wing nuts<br />from off the rusted bolts, dis-<br />assembling one of the things my ex<br />left when he left right left. And laying its<br />narrow, polished, maple angles<br />across the kindling, providing for updraft - <br />good. Then by flame-light I see: I am burning<br />his old easel. How can that be,<br />after the hours and hours - all told, maybe<br />weeks, a month of stillness - modeling<br />for him, our first years together,<br />odor of acrylic, stretch of treated <br />canvas. I am burning his left-behind craft,<br />he who was the first to turn<br />our family, naked, into art.<br />What if someone had told me, thirty<br />years ago: If you give up, now,<br />wanting to be an artist, he might<br />love you all your life - what would I <br />have said? I didn't even have an art,<br />it would- come from out of our family's life -<br />what could I have said: nothing will stop me.<br /><br />Mic drop from Sharon Olds. </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-73900857057171984972019-11-18T23:38:00.001-05:002019-11-18T23:38:06.643-05:00Foghorn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">Oh man. I have been under a waterfall of germs this fall. Ellis had pneumonia, and still has it. Samantha had bronchitis, on Halloween no less. Tim had something that plunged him into the saddest dry cough at 10pm every night. I finally forced him to go to an urgent care where someone looked at him, found nothing, and prescribed antibiotics and steroids anyway (they worked). <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I've been in and out of losing my mind with all this nursing of other people, picking up and dropping off kids at schools, pretending to care about real dinner, and finding time to exercise and write (egads). I'm fending off the urge to just set a bomb in our basement, where an avalanche of baby clothes, books, and old toys live. Maybe I haven't been 100% successful at staying sane, but I haven't run away with the family savings or painted a room hot pink and declared it off limits to everyone but a miniature poodle - although that sounds sort of awesome. I think I'm probably doing great, all things considered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">My desk has been piled high with books I dip in and out of, which isn't my favorite way to read. I've written about this before, but I like to commit to a book. It helps ground me at the end of a long, tedious day, but I haven't really felt that commitment lately, and it's no commentary on the authors whose books I've picked up. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/There-novel-Tommy-Orange/dp/0525520376" target="_blank"><i>There, There</i></a>
by Tommy Orange, which is full of beautiful, sometimes quiet insights.
I really respect his writing, and I'm so happy for all the attention
he's getting. (He won me over with <a href="https://www.politics-prose.com/video/there-there-tommy-orange" target="_blank">this </a>video,
in which he says he doesn't like to hear anyone read for a long time,
even his favorite authors.) I have a hard time with multiple narrators,
for reasons I mention above, but I loved his characters and their names
were so evocative. </span><br /><br />I tore through Alexandra Fuller's newest book, <i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/318733/travel-light-move-fast-by-alexandra-fuller/" target="_blank">Travel Light, Move Fast</a></i>. I opened it one night to see if it held anything for me, and looked up hours later, three-quarters through the thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am in the middle of another one of Fuller's books,<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cocktail-Hour-Under-Tree-Forgetfulness/dp/1594202990" target="_blank"> <i>Cocktail Hour Under the Tree of Forgetfulness</i></a>, which is a little harder to hold onto, I think. It's about her mother's life and sometimes feels a little family-treeish. That said, Fuller's family tree is pretty fascinating, and I never tire of glimpses into her childhood on various farms in Central Africa, picturing her mother among piles of books and towers of unwashed tea cups. As much as I loathe chaos in my own life, I sometimes drink it in happily when it's on the page.<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Speaking of chaos, I picked up David Shields' coffee table book, <a href="https://davidshields.com/books/war-is-beautiful/" target="_blank"><i>War Is Beautiful</i></a>, an examination of how front-page photos in the <i>New York Times</i> glorify and sanctify war. As soon as I heard about the book, which Shields mentioned on <a href="https://otherppl.com/david-shields-interview-3/" target="_blank">one of my favorite podcasts</a>, I leapt to find it, to hear someone else say things I've often felt about "the paper of record." I don't know if I'll ever forget, after college, picking up the <i>Times </i>and reading their serious reportage about the search for "weapons of mass destruction." I was twenty-one years old, trying to find any foothold in the adult world I could, and shocked to see the publication offer itself up as a vehicle for what felt like, to me, blatant fabrication. It comforted me to read someone as scholarly as Shields say what I've always felt, that the <i>Times</i> is less an objective look at our
world and more a deeply subjective, highly masculinized presentation of some of our worst biases. <br /><br />In the intro, Shields writes: ". . . even when taking an editorial position against particular government actions, the <i>Times</i>, though considered 'liberal,' never strays far from a normative position . . . Throughout its history, the <i>Times </i>has produced exemplary war journalism, but it has done so by retaining a reciprocal relationship with the administration in power . . . it knows precisely what truth the power wants told and then prints this truth as the first draft of history." <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I've also been reading <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Making-Rent-Bed-Stuy-Memoir-Trying/dp/0062415646" target="_blank"><i>Making Rent in Bed-Stuy: A Memoir of Trying to Make It in New York City</i></a> by Brandon Harris, which is exactly what it sounds like: an account of a young artist trying to live in one of the most expensive cities in our country, at a time of explosive gentrification. It's a verbose, fascinating look at class, race, and creative ambitions, and I'm really enjoying reading it in the car when Ellis falls asleep on the ride home from somewhere. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">In other narratives of glossy places, I picked up Liz Phair's memoir, the (unfortunately titled?) <i>Horror Stories</i> that has a great cover, but I haven't had a chance to crack it yet. I read Ali Wong's book, <a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/561707/dear-girls-by-ali-wong/" target="_blank"><i>Dear Girls</i></a>, and absolutely loved it. I haven't watched any of her comedy specials - or live stand-up for that matter, because I am married to my house and car, obvs - so I had no idea how raunchy her comedy could be, but something about her jokes folded in with her genuine thoughts on family and parenting had me choking back tears and laughing out loud on the same pages. I stayed up last night watching the movie Wong wrote, produced, and starred-in, <i>Always Be My Maybe</i>, and want her costume artist to please come to my house, stat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">On that note, Tim and I have been watching <i>Queer Eye</i> and weren't sold, at first. I found the rainbow typography and the black and white dance interludes somewhat seizure-inducing, but I'm having fun now. Of course, there are problematic things about the show, like how well do these people sustain these changes? One week isn't long enough for me to properly change my sheets, much less every facet of my life. But no matter what my hesitations, Jonathan Van Ness is my WOOBY. (No frame of reference for a wooby? Please watch this <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSVCQ-NmTac" target="_blank">Mr. Mom clip</a>, then come over for a screening in which we discuss what, if anything, in <i>Mr. Mom</i> holds up.) <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">The real stunner of my month has been <a href="https://bleeckerstreetmedia.com/theartofselfdefense" target="_blank"><i>The Art of Self-Defense</i></a>, a film by Riley Stearns that is so well-written, so archly performed, it may just be brilliant. I was howling throughout it, even when I knew what was going to happen. Go watch Jessie Eisenberg do his weak nerd thing and Alessandro Nivola
roast masculinity in socks and sandals, and if you skip the bonus
infomercial about Sensei's life advice ("Pardon my French, I'll speak
German") you're missing out on nirvana. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I also watched the David Crosby documentary, <i>Remember My Name</i>, and was shocked by some of his declarations, such as that few can harmonize like he and Graham Nash did, other than the Everly Brothers or maybe the Indigo Girls. At some point in the film it was revealed that Crosby is a leo, and those declarations - and more importantly, that mane of hair! - started making more sense. I actually made a list of those declarations, but I'm sparing you here, saving it for my academic paper on how Cameron Crowe is starting to look like Werner Herzog's long lost son.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Okay, that's all. Someone please send an exterminator for the germs in my house, and a pillow I can wrap around my head until February. If the holidays go anything like the rest of my fall has gone, I'm gonna need some backup. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/3602602/?claim=4g7uzcy8vkq">Follow Sut Nam Bonsai on Bloglovin. You know you want to.</a></span></div>
Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-51460855524037680232019-08-03T09:53:00.001-04:002019-08-03T09:53:53.055-04:00Van Halen, Pam Houston, and the Slippery Slope of Summer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">If you told me a month ago I'd spend any amount of time reading a book about Sammy Hagar, I'd have said you were CRAZY. Then I went on a Van Halen bender, courtesy of a book called <i>Runnin' with the Devil</i>, by their former manager, and suddenly needed to know everything I could about all things Van Halen. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />For reasons I can't quite explain - and don't wish to,
exactly - I will probably always lean David Lee Roth in the Van Hagar wars. And while I did make it through a whole book by
Sammy Hagar, in which he somewhat convincingly points to reasons why
he was the superior front man, Roth's silly videos for <i>California Girls</i> and <i>Just a Gigolo</i> played on repeat in my childhood. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />I don't know why I'm leading with 80's arena rock here. I
read lots of quality - literary! - books this summer. In fact, I
reconnected with my inner sloth and I'm better for it. Some mornings, I caught up on
petty rock star feuds with a mug of coffee while the bambinos
watched <i>Dora</i> and built forts off the sofa. (And yes,
there's a broken shelf over there now, which we "fixed" by propping it
up with lit journals.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Sometime into my third Van Halen book, I realized that I could look up not only the current retrospective accounts I was reading, but also books published in the 80's, after the band got huge. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I could keep this party going for decades! </span>Then I picked up a collection of <i>Best American Essays</i> in Tim's office. After reading only one essay, my spirit sort of sighed with relief and settled back into sanity. <br /><br />Before I fell down a Van Halen rabbit hole, I stayed up reading Kim Gordon's memoir, <i>Girl in a Band</i> one night. I opened it merely to see if I would like it. After finishing it several hours later, I looked at the clock, which read 4 am. Woops! There was something in the writing that worked for me, I guess. </span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I don't really know why I picked up <i>Girl in a Band</i>. I probably felt like I should know more about Gordon and Sonic Youth than I do. But my favorite parts were the times she threw shade on Courtney Love, for whom she produced an album, and her tender remembrances of Kurt Cobain, for whom Sammy Hagar has strong feelings, too. In his memoir, <i>Red: My Uncensored Life in Rock</i>, Hagar says: "Drugs kill people. People think drugs are what made Jimi Hendrix great. No, drugs are what killed Jimi Hendrix. Kurt Cobain could have been saved. The people around him let him go, for some reason. They had to have seen that coming." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">That sort of fanatical groundedness - calling BS on the excesses of the music industry - was, I suppose, one reason I survived a whole book about Sammy Hagar. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />In addition to revisiting dubious role models of my youth, I spent part of the summer reading two books by Pam Houston, an author whose book <i>Cowboys Are My Weakness</i> I was given right after college. I was staying at a friend's house and her mother, having just finished it, handed the book to me and said, "I think you might like this." It was happenstance, it seemed, but was probably the first book of short stories I'd been given, as a gift. Something about it felt like a benediction, and I spent a night or two in my friend's cozy guestroom reading the book.<br /><br />I haven't always identified with Pam Houston, who has held jobs as a river guide and back-country guide, like many of the narrators in <i>Cowboys</i>. Tim and I used to joke about her book called <i>A Little More About Me</i>, because it was just too fun to say, "Well, who asked?" whenever we saw the title</span><span style="font-size: small;">. (We are obnoxious.) Similarly, I remember seeing the cover of Houston's </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Contents May Have Shifted</i></span> and somehow conflating the book with <i>A Little More About Me</i>. I didn't think there was much for me in <i>Contents</i>, but one morning I reached for a stack of books we'd recently gotten at a library sale and cracked it open. From the start, the prose was haunting, nearly electric. I kept coming back to it and spent weeks reading it like scripture, hypnotized and barely retaining it, but washed by its seriousness and elegiac reaches. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /><br />Contents May Have Shifted</i> is broken into
geographical sections that loop and weave and it's really quite
beautiful. I went right into Houston's most recent book, <i>Deep Creek</i>, the same day I finished <i>Contents</i>, and was treated to a similar tone and pliancy with white space. <br /><br />There
is something so soft and forgiving in Houston's life and work now, far
from those tough, cowboy-crazed narrators that made her famous. I'm in
awe of the discipline it takes to record her life as lovingly as she
does. I'm also grateful someone is recording the sounds and
light of Colorado's high country, a space I find beautiful but rather lonely, a space I'd much rather read about from a cozy bed,
frankly. Plus, the cover of <i>Deep Creek</i>, with its dog in a creek
bed looking across a green meadow, should really be a poster.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am not someone who struggles with the passage of time, normally, but living life in the shadow of academic schedules sometimes gives me low-grade panic. It's always been my worst nightmare to live in a rush but thankfully, it's been a summer full of beach trips and sleeping in and late nights for me and it's been healing. <br /><br />Ellis knows how to say "ant problem" although, thankfully, there isn't much of one in our kitchen anymore. Samantha helps him dress and get into pjs, and the two of them entertain each other (and squeal like alley cats fighting over toys) all day long. A man stopped me in the store to tell me that when he closes his eyes, he sees his 50-year-old son at Ellis's age, and it feels like two days ago that his son looked just like Ellis. His son was down the aisle and didn't seem as charmed as I was by his outgoing dad. I guess 50 years of it has grown thin. All of it made me happy - the older man's enthusiasm, his grown child's indifference to his father's joy. What will my children ignore about me, if I have the good luck to grocery shop with them when I'm 80? And what will I brag about then, recalling these days? <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMTSyqMsWjn84hIJ5ouFudSddjZPz99fGbVOdRDaBoqIVtYA8f8C4R9n-MqTS7_3woEolgloPNLlqLf5fxvf4MRguqakswfGNbX16SxY8qUAZzmny9o4Ekc7Xc5LVy1lE0y7sCadZ6sbR/s1600/IMG_8444.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMTSyqMsWjn84hIJ5ouFudSddjZPz99fGbVOdRDaBoqIVtYA8f8C4R9n-MqTS7_3woEolgloPNLlqLf5fxvf4MRguqakswfGNbX16SxY8qUAZzmny9o4Ekc7Xc5LVy1lE0y7sCadZ6sbR/s640/IMG_8444.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-83848426425814321622019-05-01T09:50:00.000-04:002019-05-01T09:50:19.352-04:00American Animals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Sometime in March, I scrawled a note to myself to see <i>Boogie Nights.</i>
Later that day, picking up holds at the public library, I discovered it in Tim's pile. We watched it later that night and I felt like I needed three
months to recover. I also discovered, with Mark Wahlberg's full head of hair that, in the right light, with the right angle, he <i>almost</i> does it for me. I think that means we should all be wearing wigs, all the time.
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<span style="font-size: small;">After reading my last post, a good friend called it<i> </i>"borderline sacrilege." Apparently, <i>Reality Bites</i> is
one of those movies she quotes with her partner all the time, and though I absolutely
stand by my own experience of watching that film as an adult, her reaction threw me into a bit of a panic. <br /><br />One of my biggest fears about talking openly is of being a jerk
and/or crapping on someone else's joy. The internet is full of cranky
opinions. I never want one of mine to make someone feel bad
about something they like or, worse, something they made. At the same time, if I don't like something, I want to be able to say so in a fair and, hopefully, intelligent way. Do I sound defensive? Ha! I'm just trying to figure out how to be a good citizen - on the internet, and in the world. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">All this hemming and hawing is an appropriate segue to a film that
got mixed reviews when it came out, a movie called <i>American Animals</i> about four college students who stole books
from a special collections room at a private college in Kentucky. An exploration of a true story, <i>American Animals</i>
is one part-documentary, one part-fiction. Using moody imagery and a
deliberately overlapped mix of interviews and narrative, it operates as a
heist
movie with added, real-life gravity. I loved it. Tim said it caught
flack for being a film about white boys pushing against the limits of
their privilege,
and while the emotional substance of the film is a little thin, I could
not
stop thinking about one of its most successful images - <a href="https://www.hamburgjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/WebPhoto_TransyHeist_June2018.jpg" target="_blank">the famous pink flamingo from James Audubon's <i>Birds of
America</i></a>, lit up inside a giant glass case inside the special
collections room. I also just appreciated the film's stylish
cinematography. It plays with genre and perspective, as well as
veracity in story-telling, and
feels like the director is winking right at you, which really worked for
me.</span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I've watched a few other things, like <i>Maudie</i>, which I liked. It looked saccharine but was, in fact, pretty moving.
I also can't stop thinking about <i>Call Me By Your Name</i>, for some reason, which
I watched last year and loved. Maybe it's
all those summer scenes: the sun in Italy, the bikes and the stone pool, but I'm craving a re-watch.</span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I'm reading <i>Tonight I'm Someone Else</i>, by Chelsea Hodson, a
collection of essays so intense I vibrate when
reading it. When I started it, I couldn't stop sending passages to my friend Amelia,
basically reading the book aloud, via text. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I finally saw <i>The Favourite</i>,
which I dragged my feet about because I found <i>The Lobster</i> so disturbing. Once upon a time, I was on the fence about Rachel Weisz, but after
seeing her in <i>Youth</i>, the Paolo Sorrentino film that followed his 2013 masterpiece, <i>The Great Beauty</i>, I'm for her.
<i>Youth</i> is less compelling than <i>The Great
Beauty</i>, and maybe not as good as </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The Young Pope, </i></span>Sorrentino's 2016 HBO series starring Jude Law as - what else? - a young pope, but I'm not sorry I saw it. If anything, Sorrentino has a casting problem. He gets big American stars but doesn't use them in the best way. Meanwhile, some of his Italian actors
are deployed with perfection. If you can find a more likeable playboy
than Jep in <i>The Great Beauty</i>, I'd like to see it. <br /><br />To sum: if you can
work flamingos on screen, as Sorrentino does in <i>The
Great Beauty</i>, or a kangaroo inside the Vatican, as he does in <i>The
Young Pope</i>, you've won me. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />And now it seems we've come full circle, what with a second flamingo anecdote. Wishing
you magic and mystery in your daily lives, and all the wild animals your dreams can hold.</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-12549387663138477562019-03-08T20:58:00.002-05:002019-03-08T20:58:04.838-05:00Road House <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I drafted this post in December, but
it felt insane to add one more thing to anyone’s life at that time - even something
as lovely and relaxing as a Sut Nam post (wink!).<br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So now it’s March, post-Valentine’s
Day, post-birthdays, and here we are: right on time, with the speediness, glitz,
and glamour you’ve come to associate with this blog (wink, wink!).<br /><br />Like the rest of the country, I've fallen into a pit of podcasts. One
night in December, at a rare yoga class, I silently asked myself, <i>Why</i> <i>aren’t
we walking around the neighborhood listening to a podcast right now?</i> Instead,
a blond instructor blasted techno music and blabbered on about finding my
true self. I was pretty sure my true self much preferred ogling
people’s Christmas lights and breathing in the frosty air.<br /></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />I did a crazy thing, which was to go out and watch <i>Road House </i>starring, yes, Patrick Swayze. I mean, while I'm <a href="https://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/11/heartburn.html" target="_blank">revisiting <i>Footloose</i></a>,
why not do a deep dive on Patrick Swayze? The tagline for <i>Road House</i> is "A tough bouncer is hired to
tame a dirty bar." Don’t you kind of want that tagline for your entire life? Even if you aren't ever going to watch it, here are
six things to appreciate about <i>Road House</i>.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">1. Tai Chi at Dawn</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />There's a bizarre scene early in the
movie where a glistening Patrick Swayze does Tai Chi al fresco in the warm
morning light. He’s in a pair of white
pants, natch, and all the men around him, including his landlord - a
mild-mannered farmer - and the villain who lives across the river from him
(obviously), can't take their eyes off him. I think they are supposed to
be wondering what sort of tough guy does something so wondrous as Tai Chi first
thing in the morning, but after revisiting the homoeroticism of <i>Footloose</i>,
I appreciate <i>Road House</i>'s male gaze
on what the rest of the world frankly can't take its eyes off, either. That is,
Patrick Swayze in his prime.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">2. Mock turlenecks (in black <i>and</i>
taupe)<br /><br />This movie makes me wonder if I’ve missed out on a whole life by not embracing
mock turtlenecks or, more specifically, mock turtleneck <i>tees</i>. It also takes high-waisted
chinos, wraps them around Swayze, and elevates them to high art.<br /></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjdhidSCeFphxUQQo4pvwsMf70jE7AvIWlXce3F_L8cQYW5M5qUozOI4mZ-QrY6L9AWIPU7z5gaMnHL9dOLJZuDfz8xXZ2YUzMjC0HSzRTKza7w1UT3wu6GdABRw9TeRCwT_wvzTh0xhL/s1600/Black+Mock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="558" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjdhidSCeFphxUQQo4pvwsMf70jE7AvIWlXce3F_L8cQYW5M5qUozOI4mZ-QrY6L9AWIPU7z5gaMnHL9dOLJZuDfz8xXZ2YUzMjC0HSzRTKza7w1UT3wu6GdABRw9TeRCwT_wvzTh0xhL/s400/Black+Mock.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3. What. Is. That. Even.<br /><br />More than any other throwback I’ve watched lately, <i>Road House</i> makes me realize that Patrick Swayze’s hair was its own galaxy
of wonder and delight. If any of us had
one-eighteenth the confidence that man’s hair had, we’d be more than fine. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4. Scene-Stealing<br /><br />However much Patrick Swayze masters late 80’s style in this movie, Sam Elliot swoops
in and beats him at his own game.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">By the way, did you know Sam Elliot was married to Katharine Ross, of <i>The Graduate</i> and <i>Butch Cassidy </i>fame? I did not, until I saw them together in an Oscars photo this year. Do the mirrors in their house just burst into flames when those two walk by? That's a good-looking pair. <br /><br />I'm pretty sure that's Kelly Lynch's mega-teased mane by Elliot's right shoulder in the photo above, but it looks like he's carrying backup </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">hair</span></span>, just in case, doesn't it?<br /><br />5. Jim Harrison!<br /><br />There’s one scene where Swayze sort
of spies on a party at the villain's house across the river. Reading in his barn/loft - which has open
windows with no screens or doors but no mosquitos or vagrancy? - what is the shirtless Swayze reading but none other than Harrison’s
1979 collection of novellas, <i>Legends of
the Fall</i>. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Any state of undress is absolutely the way Harrison would prefer all his work to be read, by the way.<br /><br />In other news, the barn/loft is the future setting for one of the grossest love
scenes I’ve seen in a while, with none other than Kelly Lynch who makes another appearance
later in this post.<br /><br />6. Future Lebowski co-stars<br /><br />Finally, the late actor Ben Gazzara,
who played Jackie Treehorn in <i>The Big Lebowski</i>, plays the villain in <i>Road House</i>, though it took me awhile to figure
this out. One day, you’re lazily watching
an 80’s cult classic and the next, you’re driving home from daycare when you
realize the bad guy in <i>Road House</i>
is that affable pornographer with the sunken living room in <i>The Big
Lebowski</i>. <br /><br />As for other things I’ve done with my life since December, I finished <i>My
Girls: A Lifetime with Carrie and Debbie,</i> the memoir written by Debbie Reynold’s son and Carrie Fisher’s
brother, Todd Fisher. According
to Tim, <i>My Girls</i> was an even worse
cover to wake to every morning than <a href="https://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/12/always-in-love.html" target="_blank">Jeff Tweedy’s memoir</a>. I accidentally left it on his nightstand when
I fell asleep after reading so he is, I suppose, the expert. I don’t mean
to be disrespectful. The cover of <i>My Girls</i> isn’t bad, but Fisher is sort
of creeping out from the side of his mother’s hat on it, and during the period
I was reading the book we kept re-enacting the stance around the house, yelling
out <i>Yoohoo!</i> from around the corner because we’re very mature people.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In all seriousness, Fisher’s
dedication to his mother—and his mother’s devotion to her children—was moving,
and I was also impressed by some of the details of Debbie Reynold’s work
life. Her love life was an unmitigated
disaster with crooked, philandering husband after crooked, philandering husband
bankrupting her multiple times, but her vision for a Hollywood museum, while
never successfully realized, was her passion.
Despite incredible sexism against her as an entrepreneur, she preserved
a lot of movie history in private collections until, sadly, she had to auction
them. In short, I basically read the
book to learn why I should care about Debbie Reynolds, and now I know and now I
do.<br /><br />I read a book of interviews and
illustrations called <i>The Wes Anderson Collection</i> and really enjoyed it. It seems I wasn’t the only one. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also re-watched <i>The Royal Tenenbaums</i> and cried SEVERAL times.
When I was younger, I could barely stand how stylish, funny, and satisfying it
was. When I watched it this time, I was covered in goosebumps, especially
the first time we see Richie Tenenbaum’s falcon, Mordecai, fly after all the
characters have been introduced in what has to be one of the longest opening
sequences in film. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I also watched <i>Drugstore Cowboy</i> for
the first time and was worried because I don’t like narratives of drug addiction. They make me nervous for obvious reasons, and
the seediness that accompanies most addiction really gets to me. I don’t like being in fast-moving environments in life and in film. But <i>Drugstore Cowboy</i> had appropriate gravity
and grittiness, and while it was not at all sermonizing, had a sobering effect
I appreciated. It took me awhile to
realize the brunette heroine was played by Kelly Lynch, whom I had just watched
as a Jeep-driving blonde in <i>Road House</i>. It was also trippy to see such a young Matt
Dillon, and made me appreciate the glamour I associated with his name as a kid.<br /><br />Speaking of names and shimmering youth, I’ve fallen down a bit of an Ethan
Hawke rabbit hole lately and I feel the only thing you can really feel about a
run like that: shame, wonder, and intermittent faith that there’s a good reason
for all this nonsense. <br /><br />I saw <i>Reality Bites</i> for the first
time in February, weirdly on the day the film turned twenty-five. I did this out of nowhere – just picked it up
for the heck of it and watched it while Ellis napped one day, spending most of
it wondering why anyone still knows the movie’s name. Then I became possessed and didn’t stop
thinking about it for weeks. I was mad I
was supposed to sweat Ethan Hawke over Ben Stiller, who made me laugh out loud
several times with his awkwardness and who, hello!, plays a man with a job, a
shower, and knowledge of how to communicate his feelings. I also started sweating Ethan Hawke three
seconds after the film ended, as if something radioactive had been planted in
my skin by the last scene which is, frankly, not good by any stretch. <br /><br />Bad dialogue aside, let’s revisit the look of Ethan Hawke’s character’s in the
last scene, shall we? <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">If you can find something redeeming there, please call my psyche, which has
some explaining to do.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><br />
Last week I watched <i>Woman in the Fifth</i>,
written and directed by the Polish filmmaker Pawel Pawlikowski, and while I
understand why someone could be annoyed by it, I liked it. After all this, I may have worked up the
courage for <i>First Reformed</i>, which
looked so intense in the first preview I saw for it I was basically like, Yeah,
I will never see that, ever. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I honestly can’t tell if Ethan Hawke
is a good actor or not, which feels like a rude thing to say. He also married his former nanny, so there’s
that. I liked him in <i>Juliet, Naked</i>, which I picked up a
couple months ago because I like Chris O’Dowd and Rose Byrne, whom I especially
like in <i>This Is Where I Leave You</i>. Re:
Hawke’s character in <i>Juliet, Naked</i>,
which is based on a Nick Hornby novel, I sort of love a rascal with a heart of
gold and have a special fondness for bad dads who make good in the end. Is that weird?<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
I saw <i>BlacKkKlansman</i> and thought Topher
Grace was great in it. I also enjoyed John David Washington and was amused to
find out he’s Denzel’s son. I don’t
think I would have put that together on my own.
Sometimes – okay, most of the time - I feel clubbed over the head by
Spike Lee, but I genuinely loved his acceptance speech at the Oscars. His
outfit was great and I can’t stop thinking about how he told everyone his
grandma called him Spikey Poo. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That’s it. Or, in the words of my dad, when a cashier at
McDonald’s asked if he wanted anything else, after he had ordered an
enormous amount of food for his family of five: Isn't that enough? Seriously, I keep thinking I’m going to write
shorter posts more frequently, but it doesn’t happen, and I’m mostly okay with
that. If you’re feeling spritely, let me
know what you really want from Sut Nam sometime – via paper, email, or if you
must, a nasty, incendiary tweet about why there aren’t more pictures of baby pigs. I’m being serious here. What do you people want?<br /></span></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-38344653156023337532018-12-10T14:52:00.001-05:002018-12-10T14:52:23.113-05:00Always in Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">I read Jeff Tweedy's memoir, <i>Let's Go So We Can Get Back, </i>over Thanksgiving. It wasn't as strange as the year I read Chris Offutt's book <i>My Father the Pornographer</i>, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/08/magazine/my-dad-the-pornographer.html" target="_blank">a compelling, empathetic read</a>, but <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/11/heartburn.html" target="_blank">as discussed last month</a>, <i>Let's Go So We Can Get Back</i> has a stark cover that telegraphs a bit of what's inside. I used to bring a little pep to social situations. Now I just sneak away to read books about drug addiction and mood disorders. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Let's Go So We Can Get Back</i> starts with an anecdote about a
cat or, more specifically, a cat portrait. In other words, I wasn't sure
it would be worth the read. Turns out, it was. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">In <i><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2016/07/" target="_blank">Petty,</a></i> by Warren Zanes, Tom Petty says when he hears the album <i>Southern Accents,</i>
he can taste the cocaine that went into it. Apparently it went
from a deeply-felt, personal project to something finished carelessly by
a producer who sort of ruined it. For some reason, I think about that
line - <i>I can taste the cocain</i>e - all the time, and I thought of it when Tweedy talked about making <i>Summerteeth</i>, the most painful Wilco album for him to listen to now. I came of age to <i>Summerteeth </i>in
my twenties, and the person I was then is so different from the person I
am today (hellelujah) that I relate to that sentiment a lot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I don't want to get bogged down in an album-by-album analysis or an
analysis of my past selves, for that matter, so I'll just say: I
really enjoyed<i> Let's Go</i>. If I weren't such a fan of Tweedy, I might not have enjoyed it, but I am and I did, and I appreciate <i>why</i>
he wrote the book - so others might feel less alone with
addiction. The book covers standard biographical territory - who Tweedy's parents were, how he got started in music, etc., - and veers
toward addiction and recovery in the second half,
but it isn't exhaustive by any means and I'm sort of hoping he writes
another. There's certainly room for that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">My
favorite line comes from a passage where Tweedy talks about how
he used to try out songs on his mom. She was, he said, a tough audience -
not because she was harsh, but because he knew if he choked up while
singing something to her, then he had to keep it. He writes:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"That's
what made me feel like I could be a songwriter. . . . It was realizing
that I'm okay being vulnerable. . . . I wasn't the cool kid. I wasn't
the strongest. I wasn't the one you could depend on if things went
wrong. . . . I <i>was </i>the guy who could burst into tears in front of
his peers and not care what they thought. I had a bone-crushing
earnestness, a weaponized sincerity, and I was learning how to put all
those feelings into songs."<br /></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">It reminds me of something else in the book, something Rick Danko
from The Band told him once: that when Tweedy sings he sounds desperate,
and he should never try to sound any other way. <br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Let's Go So We Can Get Back</i>
chronicles the start of Uncle Tupelo, Tweedy's first band (which was
almost named Black Shampoo!), and in a satisfying, graceful way
discusses the dynamics of Tweedy's relationship with Jay Farrar,
including how Farrar quit the band. It covers the beginning and end of
guitarist and multi-instrumentalist Jay Bennett's time in Wilco,
including how he and Tweedy were estranged at the time of Bennett's
overdose in 2001. Basically, the book has a lot of what you want to hear
and is thankfully devoid of boring exposition about concerts and
technical play-by-plays. It goes into how Tweedy writes lyrics and how
Wilco has recorded some of their crazy sounds, but what I like about is
what I love about the band itself, which is the sincerity and devotion
lurking behind it all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Of the album <i>Sky Blue Sky</i>, Tweedy writes: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">"I
found myself actively avoiding my instinct to hide. In a lot of ways I
can see it now as a fairly typical recovery-themed record. 'Either Way'
is basically a rewording of the Serenity Prayer, for crying out loud." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">I was happy to hear that, because I've always found <i>Sky Blue Sky</i>
full of
comforting songs. I was in graduate
school when it came out and weirdly stressed. I played it over
and over
in my airy ranch house and sometimes practiced yoga to it in the
kitchen. I still write to it today, and somewhere in the back of my mind
is that time in my life, a time when my older brother once visited with
his
wife, and my whole family came to hear me and Tim read from our theses.
It's
funny what sticks in your mind through the years. <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Speaking of back in the day, I finally saw the Whitney Houston documentary <i>Whitney,</i> and sort of held my breath through the whole thing. I don't think I ever understood that she drowned in a bathtub at the end of her life. I guess I just heard the word "overdose" and left it at that, but <i>drowning </i>due to an overdose is so much more gruesome to me, so much more of an Elvis way to go: alone, in a bathroom. The documentary made me sad, but more than anything, it made me feel the way I want every film to make me feel: which is more understanding of the whole story. The movie describes Whitney's origins in the neighborhoods of Newark, New Jersey, and breaks down her marriage to Bobby Brown who, the film states, was basically her two older brothers rolled into one person. As the youngest child and only girl in my family, I could certainly relate to wanting that sort of comraderie in your life at all times. The film also reveals Whitney's relationship with a woman and basically hypothesizes that her drug use stemmed back to childhood molestation, an event that scarred her psychologically and prevented her from living a life more true to herself. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.PHHmSmaoaIzOhG7GPz1orgHaE8&pid=Api" src="https://tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.PHHmSmaoaIzOhG7GPz1orgHaE8&pid=Api" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">There are so many jokes about Bobby Brown in our culture, many of them problematic, but holy cow, when I saw a young BB dance in <i>Whitney</i>, I felt like I could watch it on loop, forever. I was too young when Bobby Brown got famous to understand him as a breakout artist from New Edition and later I wasn't paying enough attention to understand why he was in the news all the time, but now all I can think is, the man may have 99 problems, but dancing sure ain't one of them. <br /><br />Also, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0FKzPfsxA4" target="_blank">why don't we all have spandex with our last name down the side?</a> If you don't remember the video for Brown's hit song "Every Little Step," see minute 1:00 of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0FKzPfsxA4" target="_blank">this</a> video and paralyze yourself for the day.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">In other news, did we have to put a lock on the trash drawer after Ellis reached in, grabbed an apple core, and ran to the other room while happily eating it? Yes, we did. And does Tim accuse me of playing Bon Iver every day while it snows and I'm home alone, sipping coffee, staring out the window? Why yes, he does and yes, I do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Finally, I checked out a memoir called <i>My Girls</i> about Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, written by Carrie's brother, Eddie Fisher, and it's pretty good. I also watched <i>Won't You Be My Neighbor,</i> the Mr. Rogers documentary, which was beautiful because of the subject itself, but ultimately a little bit plain. I also finally watched <i>Unzipped</i>, per <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/11/" target="_blank">my nod</a> to <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2014/12/my-gift-guide-took-turn-for-weird.html" target="_blank">Amelia's epic 2014 gift guide</a>. May we all have mothers who believe in us like Isaac Mizrahi's mama believes in him! And may we all have Mr. Rogers sitting on our shoulders all day long, saying: Love your neighbor and love yourself.<br /></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-39490267299735077252018-11-20T10:49:00.000-05:002018-11-20T10:49:10.607-05:00Heartburn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">While the title of this post could describe some of my autumn, I finally read Nora Ephron's novel of the same name, about being seven months pregnant and finding out your husband is cheating on you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Heartburn </i>is the first book I've read of Ephron's
and now I understand what all the fuss is about. While it's accurate to
say that anyone with <a href="http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/nora-ephron-authorat-home-in-manhattan-on-west-end-avenue-picture-id147423638" target="_blank">Ephron's hairstyle</a>
has me at hello, a hairstyle featured prominently on the whole back
cover, the book was worth the wait/procrastination/whatever the word is
for my stubborn refusal to read things until I'm good and ready.
However long it took me to get here, I'm a fan.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Except
for one thing. At the start of the novel, Ephron refers to her husband's
analyst, a Guatamalen woman, with all
sorts of questionable names: Chiquita Banana, Central American
shrinkette, Our Lady of the Castanets among them. I think it's supposed
to be humorous, with all the ire pointed at her philandering husband
(boy, that's becoming <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2018-08-23T10:07:00-07:00&max-results=7" target="_blank">a real theme on this blog</a>), but, I thought to myself every time I read one and flinched: what do all her fans have to say about these jokes now? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So I have to say that. I was uncomfortable reading sometimes, as I often am when visiting past hits. <i>Tommy Boy</i>,
for instance, is nearly unwatchable now because of all the sexism.
Okay, that's not a great example. There's no Criterion Collection for <i>Tommy Boy</i>, I realize. But if there were, would it address the work's horrible - or intentional - blind spots? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Moving on! All my friends who turned me onto <i>Heartburn</i>
are admitted foodies, and while I knew Ephron had something to do with
food and food-writing, the unassuming way recipes are threaded through
the text is genius. If you don't want to eat crispy potatoes after
reading this book, your name is either Samantha and you don't appreciate
the potato enough in any form outside of a french fry, or you are no
friend of mine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Finally, my notes for this book have the word <i>brutal</i> written after a bullet point about the ending. I couldn't remember why I wrote that, so I just re-read the ending and was covered head to toe in goose bumps. Now I remember why I wrote it, and boy does it stand. The ending is heartbreaking and, at the same time, so beautiful I wanted to turn around and start the whole book over again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Instead, before heading to bed I searched "Is Ephron's novel Heartburn true" and read an online article corroborating that <i>Heartburn</i> is indeed a near-account of something that happened to her. But I learned something that blew my mind then: the offending husband was none other than Carl Bernstein, the Washington Post reporter who covered the Watergate scandal. </span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://static.independent.co.uk/s3fs-public/styles/article_small/public/thumbnails/image/2012/06/27/19/pg-44-ephron-ap.jpg" height="480" src="https://static.independent.co.uk/s3fs-public/styles/article_small/public/thumbnails/image/2012/06/27/19/pg-44-ephron-ap.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">They look perfect together, I don't know what you're talking about.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;">You guys!! Is my subconscious crazy or what?! How did I know to read the next book in my unofficial study of <i>All the President's Men</i> and<a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/08/happy-birthday-ellis.html" target="_blank"> everything I never knew I cared about in Washington politics</a>? Is life weird or WHAT?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">That indulgence aside, I heard in <a href="https://earwolf.com/episode/live-from-the-outlier-podcast-festival-w-henry-goldblatt/" target="_blank">an interview with Harry Goldblatt</a>, Editor in Chief of <i>Entertainment Weekly</i>, that <i>When Harry Met Sally</i> is still one of his all-time favorite movies and I basically fist-pumped in the dark, with a sleeping, nuzzling Ellis next to me. <i>When Harry Met Sally</i> is in my top three movies, and since I wrote about <i>Tommy Boy</i> above, you might as well know that <i>Wayne's World</i> used to be in my top three, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">And <i>Footloose</i>. There. It's out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">All jokes aside - if you're even still here (it wouldn't be the first time I lost someone at <i>Footloose</i>) Tim deserves public credit for watching <i>Footloose</i> with me a few weeks ago. We were trying to find a Tig Notaro special and, of all the pivots to make, right before we turned off the TV in failure, were offered the chance to watch <i>Footloose</i>. "Is this a sign?" said Tim, who had never seen it and knew I had watched it again and again in my youth. His verdict? You'll have to ask him. I was too busy declaring that certain songs were the best ones ("I Need a Hero") and others were gross mis-steps (Anything Sammy Hagar-related). I do know Tim was disturbed that the first kiss between the main characters happens just after the female lead is given a black eye by her ex-boyfriend, and while Tim is certainly right to be horrified from a feminist perspective, I was too busy wondering if I had to tell him that I once made my friend watch that scene in slow motion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6170/6204782455_46484976f0_z.jpg" height="384" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6170/6204782455_46484976f0_z.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Aren't inner selves ridiculous? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Truthfully, I think an amazing essay, or at the very least, article, could be written about the overwhelming bromance in <i>Footloose</i>, and how gymnastics, dancing, and tight jeans combine in the character of Ren McCormack. Am I up for it? The night after we watched it I was, but now it's disappeared down the same hole I pour most of my ideas - a hole that Samantha, Ellis, and I peer down while eating peanut butter toast and granola bars on a daily basis. Tim and I did agree, however, that in retrospect the main character in <i>Footloose</i> is really the one played by John Lithgow. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/e0rmSkHzoi0/maxresdefault.jpg" height="360" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/e0rmSkHzoi0/maxresdefault.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I searched the phrase "angry dance scene footloose" looking for this</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://www.hotflick.net/flicks/1984_Footloose/big/fhd984FLE_Dianne_Wiest_005.jpg" class="shrinkToFit" height="362" src="https://www.hotflick.net/flicks/1984_Footloose/big/fhd984FLE_Dianne_Wiest_005.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">I watched a documentary called <i><a href="https://www.onetrackheartmovie.com/" target="_blank">One Track Heart</a></i> about a musician named Krishna Das, a kirtan singer I like, and I enjoyed it. I also checked out Jeff Tweedy's new book, a memoir about the bands he's started and played in, and while I've already lol'd a bunch of times, and I appreciate his humor and playfulness, I sort of wish the whole back-of-cover, celebrity treatment had been skipped for this one. There's really no way to rest this book in my house where I'm not startled when I come into the room. Which Tweedy would you rather have greet you, when you aren't thinking about him? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://consequenceofsound.files.wordpress.com/2018/08/jeff-tweedy-memoir-lets-go.jpg?quality=80&w=806" class="shrinkToFit" height="640" src="https://consequenceofsound.files.wordpress.com/2018/08/jeff-tweedy-memoir-lets-go.jpg?quality=80&w=806" width="422" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Orrrrrrrr this one?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><img alt="https://media.vanityfair.com/photos/5bf32f6df8e9b95139585380/16:9/w_1200,h_630,c_limit/t-Jeff-Tweedy-Interview.jpg" height="360" src="https://media.vanityfair.com/photos/5bf32f6df8e9b95139585380/16:9/w_1200,h_630,c_limit/t-Jeff-Tweedy-Interview.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Okay, that's not the actual photo from the back of the book, but it's got a similar mood except the real one is closer up and his head is cocked and it basically feels like he's creeping around a corner, sneaking up to say peek-a-boo. Point being, the cover is challenging my devotion to this artist, something I didn't know was possible. But I'll probably still read it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Some of this post was written while Ellis stood next to my desk, crying with a runny nose. There were tissues everywhere and my desk looked like Sally's apartment the night Joe tells her he's marrying someone else. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">For more Nora Ephron love, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/11/09/arts/nora-ephron-rom-com-dialogue.html" target="_blank">here</a>'s a piece about her excellent dialogue, and feel free to take a moment this Thanksgiving to reflect on the real <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/how-do-native-americans-spend-thanksgiving-day-718916" target="_blank">origins of this holiday</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Finally, a shout out to Amelia's <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2014/12/my-gift-guide-took-turn-for-weird.html" target="_blank">2014 gift guide</a> featuring Meg Ryan in a classic sweatsuit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRg-DdQAbw9Zz0W6QWpYcm2wMbg8kHxToGT4myKPIWQF9oTh73-R4HpPrZMVY2jNA-OpBeq3Vu8ny87K9uZejx3iGdzhhQOIh7hv3jwH5Rlk-zsQWdSSon8r_dV7TYXVdUPT6vxVChrWJm/s1600/IMG_6856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRg-DdQAbw9Zz0W6QWpYcm2wMbg8kHxToGT4myKPIWQF9oTh73-R4HpPrZMVY2jNA-OpBeq3Vu8ny87K9uZejx3iGdzhhQOIh7hv3jwH5Rlk-zsQWdSSon8r_dV7TYXVdUPT6vxVChrWJm/s640/IMG_6856.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5dlEimqAROqBzPhXC9_OLyKRscNqpy2FoqlekTeSGdRDuKv4xLXn-ZjCD5XihouGyDquE11WBv_-sGiOCahqwSxiJWoqZUlAZvVtkvQaBvHxPYUU7jxtNDjdYR9SxzEmREqqxlEfVVjj/s1600/IMG_6903.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF5dlEimqAROqBzPhXC9_OLyKRscNqpy2FoqlekTeSGdRDuKv4xLXn-ZjCD5XihouGyDquE11WBv_-sGiOCahqwSxiJWoqZUlAZvVtkvQaBvHxPYUU7jxtNDjdYR9SxzEmREqqxlEfVVjj/s640/IMG_6903.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">P.S. Go <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2017/12/roxane-gay-samantha-irby-snapper-and.html" target="_blank">here </a>for another picture of Tim in a bathtub - not what you're
thinking but for the best bearded man in a bathtub scene, please watch
Kelly Reichardt's film <i>Old Joy</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">Related posts you might like:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/04/sloane-crosley-peter-carey-and-more.html" target="_blank">Sloane Crosley, Peter Carey, and more importantly, Birds</a></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/06/the-diarist-and-me-love-song-in-three.html" target="_blank">The Diarist and Me: A Love Song in Three Parts</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/10/more-jackie-please-dont-judge-and-some.html" target="_blank">More Jackie (Please Don't Judge) and Some Good Old Public Shaming </a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/08/happy-birthday-ellis.html" target="_blank">Happy Birthday, Ellis</a><br /></span></div>
Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-10700153792671241972018-10-12T15:22:00.001-04:002018-10-12T15:22:55.966-04:00More Jackie (Please Don't Judge) and Some Good Old Public Shaming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkchMakr3K9p_1rc6YRCCwyXjUSswOIL8qCk63fls4-kMUo4hzvFqbAtMBpZdqHPsdNm4044CiQthyWM9Tyytfcjox1pz37JiTE6AgqK3Ipgu51kyuqYc6tClQ_oP_bT7zdfbxA8YfnrRE/s1600/IMG_6424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkchMakr3K9p_1rc6YRCCwyXjUSswOIL8qCk63fls4-kMUo4hzvFqbAtMBpZdqHPsdNm4044CiQthyWM9Tyytfcjox1pz37JiTE6AgqK3Ipgu51kyuqYc6tClQ_oP_bT7zdfbxA8YfnrRE/s640/IMG_6424.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9Kd6QOMZ59axrFvOlXdpd91TPnMz4Z8PGXSSPZfB6RJWx0Uk9KUtl49tpnVGoT7xYeTYu_epDRaPpGBs9A0gVr53kqnBWakNyN9zFzP8Tpr2NiSxyiyM_PpmP40s0o3zmyfgRRymbBOS/s1600/IMG_6451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu9Kd6QOMZ59axrFvOlXdpd91TPnMz4Z8PGXSSPZfB6RJWx0Uk9KUtl49tpnVGoT7xYeTYu_epDRaPpGBs9A0gVr53kqnBWakNyN9zFzP8Tpr2NiSxyiyM_PpmP40s0o3zmyfgRRymbBOS/s640/IMG_6451.JPG" width="640" /></a> </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">I picked up Parker Posey's memoir, <i>You're
On an Airplane</i>, and boy was it light. To say it didn't meet
expectations might suggest I had ones for it. Even so, I felt
disappointed. I was annoyed by the concept - including witty asides to
flight attendants, as if you really were stuck on an airplane with Parker
Posey. More annoying were the irrelevant summaries of things like
Ayurveda and Ashtanga yoga. I guess I had hoped for surprisingly elegant
prose, or cool and subversive collages. Instead, the collages were pretty
silly and Posey's stories about movies fell flat. She also glossed over
accusations against Woody Allen, calling <a href="https://kristof.blogs.nytimes.com/2014/02/01/an-open-letter-from-dylan-farrow/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Dylan Farrow's open letter about being sexually assaulted
by Allen "</span></a>the news" that came out in the papers that day.
But her account of working with Louis C.K. was fascinating, and I appreciated
her documenting his pathos. (She never went into any accusations about
him, either.) <br /></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">On a related note, perhaps, Tim brought home a book called <i><a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781594487132" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">So
You've Been Publicly Shamed</span></a></i>, about the modern-day stonings that
occur on Twitter whenever someone missteps - grossly or subtly - in a public
way. I picked up the book, meaning only to glance at it, and spent the
next few hours reading. The writing was addictive, the topic was on
point, and it got weird sometimes, in a good way. I recommend it.</span></span> <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">I also checked out a book called <i>Jackie Ethel Joan: Women of Camelot</i> and
stuck with it, despite my reservations about 1) going too far down a Kennedy
rabbit hole and 2) the fascinating and jarring prose. I read it at the suggestion
of a friend who read <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/08/happy-birthday-ellis.html" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">my last post</span></a> about <i><a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2018/08/happy-birthday-ellis.html" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis</span></a></i>, a wonderful
biography written by Barbara Leaming that now looks incredible, and feminist,
and necessary, compared to <i>Jackie Ethel Joan</i>, which came out in 2000. <i>Jackie Ethel Joan</i> tracks the lives of three Kennedy
wives - married to Jack, Bobby, and Ted, respectively - and what can I say?
Despite its generous warmth, and its compassion while pulling back the curtain on the
egregious infidelity all three wives endured at the hands of their philandering
husbands, it just felt <i>written by a man</i> to me. <br /></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">One line in particular jarred me when I read
it, about Joan Kennedy experiencing a miscarriage:<br />
<br />
"Shortly after nightfall, Joan felt a sharp abdominal pain, the kind all
pregnant women fear." <br />
<br />
It just felt <i>weird </i>reading that statement. Like, how many
times has <i>he </i>been pregnant? How many women did he poll
before writing that? As fraught as pregnancies can be (and were for the Kennedy women), and as much
anxiety as I had about the impending births of my children,
I don't think it's fair to say that's a universal fear for all women. Maybe he meant for those who had miscarried before, as Joan had.<br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">ANYWAY.
I feel guilty criticizing any book because writing one is no joke. Hats off to all authors, period,
the end. <br /><br />And, hats off to this guy, huh? He knows what being a red panda is ALL ABOUT. (The fans, obvi.) </span></span><br /><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">Speaking of authors I admire, Tim has <a href="https://www.puertodelsol.org/single-post/2018/10/05/Cakewalk" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">a story</span></a> out at <a href="https://www.puertodelsol.org/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Puerto Del Sol</span></a>.
It's called <a href="https://www.puertodelsol.org/single-post/2018/10/05/Cakewalk" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Cakewalk</span></a>, and its about small town festivals,
New Age kooks, and a giant statue of Paul Bunyan. **Insert Blue Ox emoji
here.** (He also has a story called <a href="http://newlimestonereview.as.uky.edu/tag/tim-conrad-fiction/" target="_blank">Mars Renaissance: 8 Things a Man Should Know How to Do</a> at New Limestone Review, which I just remembered when I put up that picture of the sign on the men's bathroom, naturally.)</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"><br />I also checked out a book called <i><a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781250045379" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The
Children</span></a></i> by <a href="http://annleary.com/biography/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Ann Leary</span></a>, who wrote <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/29/fashion/rallying-to-keep-the-game-alive.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0&mtrref=www.wbur.org&gwh=EBDADEC46EAFC264E3305534B89EC744&gwt=pay" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">my favorite Modern Love column of all time</span></a>, but
I haven't gotten <i>The Children</i> yet. Leary wrote a book called <i><a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/%209781250043030" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">The
Good House</span></a></i>, which I LOVED, and is incidentally the wife of the actor
Denis Leary, who was good in the movie version of <i>Jesus' Son</i>.
(Billy Crudup slayed in <i>Jesus' Son</i>, too, obviously, but I am still
reeling from the fact that Crudup left his longtime partner Mary-Louise Parker
ten years ago, when she was seven months pregnant. And for Claire Danes.
YIKES.)<br />
<br />
On the topic of celebrity gossip, I finally subscribed to <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/homophilia/id1267538496?mt=2" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Homophilia</span></a>, a podcast by Matt McConkey
and Dave Holmes, whose memoir <i>Party of One</i> I wrote about <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2016/08/tail-of-dragon.html" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">here</span></a> and <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2016/12/bon-appetempt-sut-nam-bonsai-gift-guide.html" target="_blank"><span style="mso-color-alt: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">here</span></a> after it blew my mind. Homophilia is
funny, snappy, heartfelt, and full of pop culture, and I am into it lately. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Arial", sans-serif;">Our littlest baby is walking now, and his cheerful shuffles around the
house take my breath away. He says "Awwwwww" when he gives hugs, and he eats hotdogs way too often. He thinks my
print of a crane should bark (and who's to say it shouldn't?) and we
call him the Tax Man because if anyone in the room has a snack, he all but yells "pay up!" and
motions for a bite. For now, I admire his
confidence and, as Anthony Hopkins says of the Samuel character, the youngest brother in <i>Legends of the Fall</i>, "He certainly was the best of all of us." (Or something like that.)<br /><br />Happy fall! Get thee to the cider mill.<br />XOXO <br /><br /></span></span></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-88300608829663245702018-08-23T13:07:00.000-04:002018-08-23T13:07:24.442-04:00Happy Birthday, Ellis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: small;">In the words of one of our house painters, this summer just <i>flew</i> by. I wish it was full of trips to the beach and fabulous outings, but the truth is, I spent much of it at various doctor's appointments, driving to the pharmacy for strep throat medications, and battening down the domestic hatches (see also: house painters). <br /></span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;">Predictably, in all this boring chaos, I haven't found a
good reading thread, at least not one worth mentioning. I finally read <i>Into Thin Air</i>,
by Jon Krakauer, a book that Tim couldn't believe I wanted to read,
since it's about alpine climbing, a rather testeronic pursuit, and also
because it features a disastrous season on Mount Everest in which 12
people died. The first half of the book was somewhat riveting, about
the various adventure guides and their clients who were climbing Everest
the same season Krackauer was assigned to write about them for <i>Outside </i>magazine.
But halfway through the book, when a deadly storm rolls in and people
start misplacing tanks of oxygen and getting altitude sickness and
dying, I felt a hollow pit in my stomach and wanted to stop. I finished
the book, but with a growing uneasiness. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Looking up Krakauer on the interwebs, I was reminded of a book I once wanted to read - <i>The Wild Truth</i>, written by Candice McCandless - sister of Chris McCandless, whose dramatic story Krakauer explored in his 1997 <i>Into the Wild</i>. Published in 2015, <i>The Wild Truth</i>
reveals the violence in the McCandless home, violence that compelled
Chris McCandless to leave home and walk into the Alaskan wilderness,
unwittingly toward his death, to begin with. I haven't read <i>The Wild Truth</i> - or <i>Into the Wild</i>, for that matter - but the former looks pretty interesting. I loved the film version of <i>Into the Wild</i>, but boy are there some <a href="https://www.thedailybeast.com/sean-penns-horrifying-history-of-alleged-abuse" target="_blank">big issues with Sean Penn</a>,
full stop. I find it difficult to enthusiastically consume anything
Penn is involved in now, but I got into Emile Hirsch for a minute after <i>Into the Wild</i>, and I adored him in <i>Milk</i>, which used to be one of my favorites, starring yet another <a href="http://www.latimes.com/business/hollywood/la-fi-ct-james-franco-allegations-20180111-htmlstory.html" target="_blank">problematic Hollywood male</a>, James Franco, in addition to Penn. </span><br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j2ed0DCszYHmglbxxmE4pET24_AySPPjkb1-DT9suRiLexXyQR1ud9yrF8nm0mrJbrORm0lPEyspsoRdbR9rVBAD_MJu9ofomP-vgi_DKnZrN57-mYBiwJabFAiPkvQmZPstGSHAqP8v/s1600/IMG_6202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0j2ed0DCszYHmglbxxmE4pET24_AySPPjkb1-DT9suRiLexXyQR1ud9yrF8nm0mrJbrORm0lPEyspsoRdbR9rVBAD_MJu9ofomP-vgi_DKnZrN57-mYBiwJabFAiPkvQmZPstGSHAqP8v/s640/IMG_6202.JPG" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />When I looked up where Hirsch has been lately, I saw <a href="https://www.indiewire.com/2016/12/emile-hirsch-interview-jail-rehab-1201758602/" target="_blank">this</a>
article, discussing a physical assault by Hirsch on a film executive at
the Sundance film festival, for which he did time (albeit not very much
time). I bring it up as an accountability factor, less I unwittingly
sing the praises of people who, uh, still have some work to do. <br /><br />Like Sherman Alexie, another artist with <a href="https://www.npr.org/2018/03/05/589909379/it-just-felt-very-wrong-sherman-alexies-accusers-go-on-the-record" target="_blank">some skeletons worth discussing</a>, whom I bring up because I wrote about him praisingly <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2017/07/sherman-alexie-richard-ford-and-don.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">In other news, I've been listening to a book <span data-ved="2ahUKEwiu0JOTwv_cAhUJv1MKHR_VC_QQ2kooAjAUegQIChAO">by Barbara Leaming called </span><span data-ved="2ahUKEwiu0JOTwv_cAhUJv1MKHR_VC_QQ2kooAjAUegQIChAO"><i>Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis: The Untold Story</i>.</span>
Somebody please check my brain. In a million years, I never thought I
would be interested in Jackie as a subject, not because she isn't a
worthy one, but I just didn't think her life interested me much.
However, I stumbled upon the audio version at the library and, after an
immediate revulsion to the narration, told myself to give it a shot, and
was hooked. <br /></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">In
terms of questionable male figures, the sexual habits of JFK could make
the most libertine among us blush. His wife's devotion to him despite
his flagrant infidelity disturbs me, and I've spent a lot of time
thinking about how the two of them played each other - her for personal
security, and him for political gain. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Perhaps the most disturbing part of the book is how little <i>useful</i>
support she had in the wake of her first husband's death. Importantly, the book covers how little doctors understood about post-traumatic stress disorder and how it wasn't until veterans returned
from Vietnam, screwed-up en masse, that we started to understand the
condition. Jackie talked to a
priest, and doctors prescribed her medications, but the book
at least doesn't discuss any therapies that helped her to really process the
trauma of holding her dying husband's body in her hands. As
time went on and she did not get "better," there were a lot of people
around her telling her not to dwell on the past, including her own mother. I find that incredible, and super
sad. Also, does this mean I have to watch the Natalie Portman biopic, <i>Jackie</i>? </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Sometime this spring I read <i>The Color of Water</i>, by
James McBride. Billed as "a black man's tribute to his white mother"
in the subtitle, the book is beautifully written, and felt like an
important read for me. I read McBride's 2016 <i>Kill 'Em and Leave: Searching for James Brown and the American Soul</i>,
when I was pregnant with Ellis, and found the writing equally luminous,
not to mention impressive considering the author's concurrent career as
a musician. But <i>The Color of Water</i> moved me because it
chronicles a woman raising eleven children through the grief of losing
two beloved partners, and also because it made me consider my
philosophies about education. Whereas McBride's mother is fanatical
about educating all her children, sending them to the best, often
Jewish, schools in New York City, I tend to be wary of overemphasizing
formal education in a child's social, artistic, and psychic development,
a privilege this book made me take a good, hard look at.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Speaking of being pregnant with Ellis last summer, I have
often been so grateful not
to be hugely pregnant this one. Not
that raising babies outside the body is anything but arduous. A local
liquor store often rotates letters on their sign and they put up in August: Uh-Oh, It's Leo Season. As the mother of a Leo and the
daughter of one, that one made me laugh.<br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">I watched <i>The Graduate</i> at the start of July and drank in its lush everything -
casting, cinematography, direction, soundtrack - but I was newly
disturbed by its problematic plot points. I also watched <i>Blackfish</i>,
which I've been meaning to see for years. Everyone
warned me how upsetting it was, and maybe it's my inner Pisces, but I
found it almost satisfying. I've always been freaked out by Sea World.
To see the lives of such powerful animals explored within the
dubious ethics of captivity and corporate investments fascinated me. Plus WATER,
SO MUCH WATER, COUNT ME IN.</span><br /><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Finally, it's totally unfair but I blame my restlessness lately on Richard Yates. I watched <i>Revolutionary Road</i>
with Tim before we were married and hated it. I found it depressing,
and shrill, and grim, and unimaginative. Tim kept insisting the book
had virtues the film enthusiastically disowned, and we had such a pretty
copy of it (before my and Ellis' powers combined rumpled that thing up
something awful), so I gave it my best shot. Friends, it is rare when a
book puts me to sleep. I am a night owl. Any flickering light - in my
mind or my headlamp - is an excuse to blow past bedtime while
telling myself the lie that coffee will make up for it in the morning. But I learned quickly, if I want to fall asleep, I
only have to open up that depressing book and read three pages about
infidelity and suburban ennui, and rage between spouses and the shape of
women's boobs (COULD YOU JUST NOT, FOR ONE PAGE, WHITE MALE WRITERS?), and I hit the
Zzz's faster than Ellis does in a spin around the block with a Jackie book blaring.<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I
guess what I'm saying is: more pretty book covers, fewer body
descriptions, Mr. Yates. However, there is no denying the deftness of
the man's prose. For all my complaints about dreary plot and shallow
hearts, the prose is truly wonderful.<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu9rInpf2gMKZsLI6fTjbOAMZmOKBP-LcacGq_3z1rmfefR4pJ_ukL7A_Ad4sagzlXU5dXahcS7HauF21tSd_R4_fW72kReHLiGLBA360ZnR0EU9mOaPar5FJOY4u9z2vb6ahOAchzivA/s1600/Revolutionary+Road.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1184" data-original-width="758" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu9rInpf2gMKZsLI6fTjbOAMZmOKBP-LcacGq_3z1rmfefR4pJ_ukL7A_Ad4sagzlXU5dXahcS7HauF21tSd_R4_fW72kReHLiGLBA360ZnR0EU9mOaPar5FJOY4u9z2vb6ahOAchzivA/s400/Revolutionary+Road.jpg" width="255" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />I don't know how to follow that, one of Sut
Nan Bonsai's clearest pans, which I blame on myself and my lack of
attention span this summer. How about this? Ellis turned one. ONE.
It's not just myself who cannot believe it. One of our favorite librarians agrees with me, the one who
chides me that I never take Ellis out of the stroller (because he's
SLEEPING, is she CRAZY? Does she bonk sleeping dogs over the nose with
rolled-up newspapers, too?). </span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu9rInpf2gMKZsLI6fTjbOAMZmOKBP-LcacGq_3z1rmfefR4pJ_ukL7A_Ad4sagzlXU5dXahcS7HauF21tSd_R4_fW72kReHLiGLBA360ZnR0EU9mOaPar5FJOY4u9z2vb6ahOAchzivA/s1600/Revolutionary+Road.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Happy Birthday, Ellis, my beautiful, powerful, affable little Leo. I love every gap in your teeth and your fascination with book pages, your willingness to take fake medicine from Samantha's doctor kit daily, and how hard you make us all work for that marvelous chuckle of yours. <br /><br />P.S. For more on PTSD, I recommend <a href="https://onbeing.org/programs/bessel-van-der-kolk-how-trauma-lodges-in-the-body-mar2017/" target="_blank">this </a>luminous On Being episode, <i>How Trauma Lodges in the Body</i>, with Bessel van der Kolk, a professor of psychiatry at Boston University Medical School. <br /><br />Or, just ask me about my two c-sections! Wink, wink. <br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2rhzr6vvFL3E9BKbeb3q5npSxNNP6zxLH7_1Mi1hi4IUmG5Wk00zCMmdeiWz1owWq2fPpWuCgqYzeamh0D1lmW-zWqKYrLOi5bLuBvpGPw7jlT76qtOi7PjTxtEB9_NDAvdY7kOaQkK9/s1600/Sammy+Pajammy+at+the+beach.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1517" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh2rhzr6vvFL3E9BKbeb3q5npSxNNP6zxLH7_1Mi1hi4IUmG5Wk00zCMmdeiWz1owWq2fPpWuCgqYzeamh0D1lmW-zWqKYrLOi5bLuBvpGPw7jlT76qtOi7PjTxtEB9_NDAvdY7kOaQkK9/s640/Sammy+Pajammy+at+the+beach.jpg" width="606" /></a></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-26373480540570163582018-06-08T10:25:00.000-04:002018-06-08T10:25:24.666-04:00The Diarist and Me: A Love Song in Three Parts <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In <i>The Art of Memoir</i>,
which I've been tooling around, listening to in my car, Mary Karr says
there's a special circle in hell for people who quote themselves.
There's probably an inner, hotter ring to that circle, meant for people
who quote their own diaries. But I recently found a journal entry that
said: "I told Tim, if someone
you liked in your twenties is still making you laugh out loud in your
forties, I think it's real love." I was talking about David Sedaris.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />In the library one day this winter, I passed by Sedaris' <i>Theft and Finding: Diaries 1977-2002</i> and sort of rolled my eyes. On some level, I was probably jealous. <i>How come </i>his<i> thoughts matter so much they get their own huge book?</i> thought my envious, obviously neglected psyche. Then I picked up the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgBCzl7sTok" target="_blank">visual compendium</a>
to those diaries, and was hooked. The editor, Jeffrey Jenkins, was a
childhood friend who describes the Sedaris den growing up as place where
jazz blasted and modern art hung on the walls.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've probably loved Sedaris since picking up <i>Me Talk Pretty One Day</i> for a flight just after college, a flight I spent in stitches, silently crying. In <i>Theft by Finding</i>, which I dove into this spring, he writes about being slightly embarrassed by <i>Me Talk Pretty</i><i>,</i> because other, "better" writers had written books that fell into obscurity. He also writes<i>, </i>"I think I can write something much better than <i>Me Talk Pretty</i>," which I found to be a fascinatingly bold statement. After reading 2013's <i>Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls</i>, I can say he's done it. (What a relief! He's definitely been waiting for me to say so.) <br /><br /><i>Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls </i>has
more gravity, more maturity - more stakes, to use the dreaded workshop
phrase - than some of his earlier stuff, and the self-loathing so
apparent in early entries of <i>Theft By Finding</i> feels
worked-through now. It's like being around someone who's gone through
successful therapy. The writing feels warm, generous, wise even, while
still profoundly funny. </span></span></span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have <i>Calypso</i>,
Sedaris' new book, on my desk now, but enough about that guy, huh?
Let's talk about his obvious literary predecessor, the late publishing
scion, Katharine Graham. Just kidding! I suppose they have in common
losing loved ones to suicide - Kay, her husband Phil; David, his sister
Tiffany - but there's a pretty big gap between Sedaris' hooked-on-meth
performance artist days and Graham's personal friendships with the
Kennedy family and Warren Buffet.<br /><br />After reading <i>All the President's Men</i> (about The Washington Post's reporters breaking the Watergate scandal), and seeing <i>The Post </i>(about,
duh, The Post printing The Pentagon Papers), and being slightly
obsessed with Meryl Streep's portrait of Kay Graham, I checked out
Graham's memoir, <i>Personal History</i>, which came out when I was in
college. I remember journalism majors toting it around, and female
journalism majors especially speaking in hallowed tones about Graham,
but I wasn't ready for the book then. </span></span></span><br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's
odd, though welcome, how my capacity to absorb history has changed.
Last weekend, I spent hours reading a book about the assassination of JFK
while Tim did yard work and Samantha trailed him with the snow shovel
she believes is a gardening tool. If you had taken me aside in college
and told me this would be my life, I would have squinted hard into
the future and been able to glimpse one wavering leaf in that sunny
afternoon before diving back into my frozen yogurt, uninterested.<br /><br />I cracked <i>Personal History</i>
some days after turning forty, and was instantly riveted by the
writing, which is elegant and diplomatic and full of grace. I suppose I
was reading to find out why her husband killed himself and how she felt
about it (is that lurid? I am interested in mental health, and the
oblique mention of Phil's suicide in <i>The Post</i> had me wanting to
find out more about Kay's feelings around it, because it left the
responsibility of running a media empire to her, a former reporter and
now socialite with little business experience when she inherited the
job). But the writing was so good, and the events of her life were so
interesting, I devoted myself to finishing it, much to Tim's dismay. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span><br /><br />
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I also read <i>The Long Goodbye</i>,
by Meghan O'Rourke, about her mother's death to colorectal cancer. I
loved the first half of the book, which detailed her relationship with
her mother, especially in the final months of her mother's life. I
struggled to connect with the second half, which was an examination of
grief in general, including her own. But the writing was stunning
throughout - no surprise considering O'Rourke is also a poet.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />What else can I tell you? My good friend Amelia has started a podcast with fellow writer Edan Lepucki called <a href="https://www.momragepodcast.com/" target="_blank">Mom Rage</a>.
I absolutely love the intimate tone and their mission to expand the
conversation around motherhood. The tagline is: "a podcast for your
best and worst selves," which, let's be honest, is exactly who we all
are as parents. </span></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghw5cNB5XoElgSR4swIDMJjjpGOFhOcrnHCRGDn4qXVsk3NcrFC758Caye2bBWuF9I3z1CGUQv7eFCN3IKgA_OdCZmG9hsjm8Ntyk1Bmm0CLfMnXVeKoQmi-rKhKECeH2B6g_6aBNTR5fD/s1600/IMG_5480.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghw5cNB5XoElgSR4swIDMJjjpGOFhOcrnHCRGDn4qXVsk3NcrFC758Caye2bBWuF9I3z1CGUQv7eFCN3IKgA_OdCZmG9hsjm8Ntyk1Bmm0CLfMnXVeKoQmi-rKhKECeH2B6g_6aBNTR5fD/s640/IMG_5480.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />Spring is here (finally!) and I am feeling
it. When we moved to Michigan several years ago, I was undeterred by
rumors about how long and hard winters were. I think I've been broken,
though. I drove over a pothole last week that belonged more in a field
in Yellowstone than a suburban street in town, and I thought, Okay,
winter, I see you and what you've done to us. I'm not ready to move to Key West or anything, and I
don't mind the cold, but the lack of quality exercise bothers me, and
from November to May, I make the most questionable decisions regarding
nutrition. <br /><br />If you need me, I'll be rescuing Ellis from the
tables he's pulled himself up to and beating back the tide of Curious
George books in our living room. <br /><br />Meanwhile, happy Spring! <br />XXOO<br /><br />P.S. If you want to receive these posts by email, you can sign up <a href="http://karanorman.us12.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=26e8d2722d62c3a34e669b209&id=84ab8b0e0c" target="_blank">here</a>. <br /><br /></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BCz1OV2MNnBFv-BWi5SRItI8tcDaNPz2-xZnFDFs7H8ojpw5EofpRrJCCxDm8Q7Cx_ZnR0TVKXz1Ch9ZLU2W-fSbsUyPFmEZQra2ItlLk4Z_92f807TcIa_Uog21UvMS52vR5s2UPS7i/s1600/IMG_5386.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5BCz1OV2MNnBFv-BWi5SRItI8tcDaNPz2-xZnFDFs7H8ojpw5EofpRrJCCxDm8Q7Cx_ZnR0TVKXz1Ch9ZLU2W-fSbsUyPFmEZQra2ItlLk4Z_92f807TcIa_Uog21UvMS52vR5s2UPS7i/s640/IMG_5386.JPG" width="640" /></a><br /><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-83131488069320501252018-04-09T11:32:00.001-04:002018-04-15T14:09:32.387-04:00Sloane Crosley, Peter Carey, and, More Importantly, Birds<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tim and I took separate trips recently and some of the pictures in this post are from his trip to Florida. Absent are
pictures of me and the kids visiting grandparents,
which was a great time but didn't get captured because my
photographer was off gallivanting with pelicans.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />While I was packing, Tim came up with a pile of books I could take, novels I hadn't
yet read, essays I might be interested in. They had to be paperback, obviously,
because I was flying with two kids by myself and didn't want to add a five-pound book to my back.
My only goal was not to swipe Tim's birthday copy of <a href="http://www.abdurraqib.com/bio/"><span style="color: blue;">Hanif Abdurraqib</span></a>'s
<i><a href="https://twodollarradio.com/products/they-cant-kill-us"><span style="color: blue;">They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us</span></a>, </i>put out by <a href="https://twodollarradio.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Two Dollar Radio</span></a>, an indie
press based in Columbus, OH. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Two Dollar Radio doesn't need my paltry PR, but when I see a book </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">written by someone who doesn't live in Brooklyn, </span>put out by a small midwestern press,
I basically freak out with pride and joy. <br />
</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span>
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">However, look at my hypocritical buns when I tell you one of the books Tim offered, which I stayed up reading and
finished before the trip even started, was Sloane Crosley's <i>I Was Told There
Would Be Cake</i>. Crosley grew up in Westchester County, New York and worked in publishing for years before starting to write full-time. In other words, I'm pretty sure she lives in Brooklyn. (I'm mostly joking about
this Brooklyn thing. I love it there and would live there myself if I didn't need trees and grass and the whisper of bears so much in my
life.) <br /><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Of course, I devoured <i>I Was Told There Would Be Cake</i>, which was, stunningly, Crosley's debut in 2008. She has another collection, <i>How Did You
Get This Number?</i>, which I intend to read (not just because it has a bear on
its cover but let's face it, that never hurts). Her new book, <i>Look Alive Out There</i>, just landed on my dining room table, courtesy of Tim, so it looks like rip-roaring
evenings for me ahead: a baby, a bed, a pile of books. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />Should that be the name of this blog?<br /></span></span></span><br />
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I know your days have been hanging on this update but I did, in fact,
finish <i>All the President's Men</i> and even enjoyed it. My
enthusiasm might have been boosted by an outing with Tim to see <i>The Post</i>. If you don't want to move into Ben Bradlee's moody blue living room after seeing that movie,
there might be something wrong with you. <br /><br />Or maybe you just aren't a Pisces.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />So now I can watch Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2017/12/15/us/dustin-hoffman-sexual-misconduct.html" target="_blank">who has been accused by multiple women of sexual harrassment</a>, in the movie version of <i>All The President's
Men</i> which I will undoubtedly watch by myself one evening while Tim falls asleep six minutes in.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I read <a href="https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2017/11/20/art-monstrous-men/" target="_blank">this </a>essay by Claire Dederer, who writes sentences I'd like to eat. It's called <a href="https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2017/11/20/art-monstrous-men/" target="_blank">What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men?</a>
and that, my friends, is a question we should all be asking right
now. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In case you're curious, I brought <i>Theft</i>, by Peter Carey, on my trip and <i>may</i>
have spent more time watching <i>The Great British Bake Off</i> than reading, but
that's only because I don't have Netflix at home. <i>Theft</i> alternates
chapters in the voice of two brothers and while I found it VERY ENTERTAINING –
especially because one of the brothers, who is a little off, uses
intermittent caps to hilarious effect – the switching voices between chapters
slowed down my reading a bit. LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YOU, CLEVER
WRITERS. <br /></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">
</span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I do love Peter Carey, though, and hope one day to grow up to have a bio pic rival his.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0p2omG86j9n8Pb98pdW7lHiC7M-WV2gTK1N2DN7k4-N8LzHXs8cJxhVGLLt9BZmncFGJodSdDIsF6PI8hysZGFKiYaGLO7Mf16ojfP1H9CIuoOf9nwnQtXiqEAPzwZJwZZCxvE5S06w0P/s1600/Peter+Carey+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="411" data-original-width="620" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0p2omG86j9n8Pb98pdW7lHiC7M-WV2gTK1N2DN7k4-N8LzHXs8cJxhVGLLt9BZmncFGJodSdDIsF6PI8hysZGFKiYaGLO7Mf16ojfP1H9CIuoOf9nwnQtXiqEAPzwZJwZZCxvE5S06w0P/s400/Peter+Carey+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In other news, I have a story at <a href="http://bullmensfiction.com/" target="_blank">Bull</a>
about a man whose girlfriend has died, who attends the funeral at her
family's home in Missouri. If that premise isn't a side-splitter, I
don't know what is. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Seriously,</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> I'm very happy to have a story at Bull. It has duck decoys, confused people, and a small dog, and you can check it out <a href="http://bullmensfiction.com/fiction/practically-married/" target="_blank">here</a>. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br />That's all for now. Ellis is grinding his teeth together, an altogether excruciating sound. And yes, he's biting me with the new ones. Thank you for asking! </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> <br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJZkCXgi1JfOCeE9iIXT6o9lSLBGmLbrGR90kYa2LWXmL5fQcL2rju_UbPQoyi5o1Bt3jIF3804sq6o2BHmpmaN_5y8fGMaE6Dm7geyUuU8RgVSKeGq6TnyPdKC1WUznZ7sU_z8emVS08/s1600/IMG_5220.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJZkCXgi1JfOCeE9iIXT6o9lSLBGmLbrGR90kYa2LWXmL5fQcL2rju_UbPQoyi5o1Bt3jIF3804sq6o2BHmpmaN_5y8fGMaE6Dm7geyUuU8RgVSKeGq6TnyPdKC1WUznZ7sU_z8emVS08/s640/IMG_5220.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-70051648938992650612018-02-22T22:56:00.001-05:002018-02-22T22:56:57.320-05:00Rolling Stone, Joni Mitchell, and Other Gems: An Accidentally Seventies Post <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I have been in a strange zone with reading materials lately. I read <i>Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone magazine</i>, by Joe Hagan, which is well-written but took me a few days to get into because, like <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2016/12/" target="_blank">Springsteen's memoir</a> and a whole lot of <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2016/07/three.html" target="_blank">rock biographies</a>, <i>Sticky Fingers</i>
clocks in at just over five hundred pages. It was fun to learn about
the inception of the magazine, and how Mick Jagger and Jann Wenner have
been in a lifelong tug-of-war about who owns the rights to the phrase <i>Rolling Stone</i>,
but reading about what a mess one of my semi-idols Annie Leibovitz was
in her youth, and how sodden with drugs and boundless relationships the seventies were for a lot of people, a) made me think about what glamor
really means to your personal life and b) made me pause before diving
into the rest of the book.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a commitment to settle in for someone's whole life history but, generally, once I cross the one-third mark of a big book, I'm in it for the long haul. Some books teach you how to read them, and I find that to be the case with these <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2016/12/" target="_blank">big rock bios</a>. Another book I've been reading recently is<i> </i>David Yaffe's portrait of Joni Mitchell called <i>Reckless Daughter</i>. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><i>Reckless Daughter</i> overlaps somewhat with <i>Sticky Fingers (</i>Tim kept calling it <i>Icky Fingers</i>; I don't know which title is more gross). Both feature the music industry and some of the same people, like David Geffen, and I would have thought reading about Joni's start as a young folksinger who grew into a California goddess would have been satisfying, but it turns out I was much more interested in the latter half of her life, when her music was morphing out of commercial reach and her relationships were increasingly fraught. The same was true for me of Wenner's biography - I wanted to know what he was up to in his forties and beyond, when he was having children and coming out of the closet and buying multiple mansions and navigating divorce. His ruthless ambition and drug-addled days as a young, hustling journalist-turned-publisher were full of famous events and names, including the disastrous Rolling Stones concert at Altamont in 1969, but it's almost too easy to be young and ambitious. I like learning about people after they've gotten roughed up a
bit, not because I like other people's suffering, but because often that suffering gives people perspective. It can soften them in interesting, if not welcome, ways. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I also picked up <i>The Vanity Fair Diaries</i> by Tina Brown, thinking it could be fun, but it seemed Diane Von Furstenberg appeared right away. Furstenberg appeared in quite a few pages of <i>Sticky Fingers</i>, and I was tired of reading about glittering parties. <i>The VF Diaries</i> also omits the first person pronoun, a style that generally leaves me with vertigo (an exception of course being George Saunders' haunting story "<a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/10/15/the-semplica-girl-diaries" target="_blank">The Semplica-Girl Diaries</a>"). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />Another book from the psyche of the 70's on my desk right now is <i>All the President's Men</i>, about Nixon/Watergate. I sometimes accidentally refer to it as <i>All the King's Men</i>, a confusion for everyone around. I haven't decided if I'm going to commit to it yet. For one, it's co-authored by Woodward and Bernstein and in the third person (!). It's also one of those books where I read a paragraph and realize I absorbed nothing in it, and so I start again. And again. But I sort of love accounts of hard-hitting reportage, perhaps because I could never, ever do it, myself. <br /><br />Accidentally continuing the seventies theme, Tim and I watched <i>Battle of the Sexes</i>, about Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs, starring Emma Stone and Steve Carrel, with Elisabeth Shue whom I frankly would watch water her lawn or buy drapes. The story is based on a tennis match in 1973 and I loved taking in the imagery of those days. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />A welcome departure from the dizzying shimmer of all the pop-culture books lately was <a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781328662071" target="_blank"><i>Our Lady of the Prairie</i></a>, <a href="http://www.thisbenissen.com/books" target="_blank">Thisbe Nissen</a>'s fifth book and third novel. I know Thisbe socially and read <i><a href="https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780385720625" target="_blank">Osprey Island</a></i> sometime after we moved to Michigan. You know I'm a sucker for a water-y tale (and picture! <i>Osprey's Island</i>'s cover is right up there with Brian Groh's <a href="http://sutnambonsai.blogspot.com/2017/04/summer-books-already.html" target="_blank"><i>Summer People</i></a> for me) and was moved by her descriptions of weather and water and the people on the island where the book takes place. It's a story I think about often, with some terrifically-drawn characters and events that feel both dramatic and true.<br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was pleased to find <i>Our Lady of the Prairie</i> just as engaging as <i>Osprey Island</i>, with endearing characters in a Midwest I love to read about: hay-filled and sunny or snow-covered and icy, with hoarder-landlords, dairy workers, motel owners, professors, Amish defectors, old people, and a whole lot of dubious chain-store snacks. <br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's also really funny and I found myself laughing out loud, a LOT. Of her mother-in-law, the fifty-year-old narrator says:<br /><br />"She did keep photos of us - Michael, Ginny, and me - in frames in her room at East Prairie, though she probably tolerated my face in those shots with her beloved son and granddaughter the way she tolerated my actual presence: grudgingly, and with unconcealed displeasure. I always imagined that, if Michael and I split up, she'd relish X-ACTOing me out or sticking something over my face - an Easter Seal, a Chiquita banana sticker: <i>That's not my daughter-in-law; that's just PLU #4011."</i><br /><br />Nissen's awareness of the absurd always feels close at hand, something I welcome at any time. I also found myself continuously happy to see objects I had forgotten about, such as a shower radio inside a tornado shelter, and the following rural setting I didn't know I wanted to so badly to hear described until Nissen does so with characteristic finesse:<br /><br />"Aldous Bontrager, landlord of 1867553 John C. Wolffson Road, got to the house before me to weed-whack a path to the front door. His trousers were spattered with grass, and when he lifted his cap to resettle it on his head before extending an arm toward me, his hair stuck to his brow in a wet band. The house was surrounded not by lawn but by a bizarrely ordered and organized junkyard: a pile of bicycle parts sat beside a reserve of household appliances; a nearby depression held vacuums, shop vacs, and electric brooms. Broomsticks, yardsticks, trim molding, and other long, skinny things were bundled in twine and stacked against the house like firewood.<br /><br />'I own it all.' Bontrager swept his hand, indicating either the farmland or the junk.'" <br /><br />One of the perks of reading for me right now - and maybe, hopefully, always - is that the right book at the right time provides a sort of subconscious river, a water table beneath my days, where my thoughts go to settle while the world around me explodes. There's a continuity for me, when I'm reading a book I like, that counters the herky-jerky nature of life with a small child. I love my daughter, who is a gem of surprises and dead-on humor, and my little baby who is flipping over and saying "hi" - I swear - and who right now is cooing from a swing in the dining room. But if I don't have some quiet mental space away from the noise, I get out of whack, quickly. In days overrun with errands and meals and Curious George, my non-negotiables are: books, words, fresh air, and sleep. <br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I don't mean to be all tiny-violin here, but it's hard to read behemoth
hardcovers while wrangling/nursing a baby, and I'm looking forward to
taking a break from celebrity bios for a bit. I know there are
e-readers and other options out there but please don't take my martyrdom
from me. (Joking! Sort of.) <br /><br />In the meantime, it's almost my birthday. I'm due chocolate, a cake of some kind. Presents, roses, you name it, I'll take it. "Maybe we can make something for you," Samantha said, when she learned about my day. I look forward to seeing what she engineers.</span></span><br />
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Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2846773082587222338.post-63183950397576167942017-12-08T12:40:00.001-05:002017-12-08T12:40:20.543-05:00Roxane Gay, Samantha Irby, Snapper, and Wilco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s absurd to use the word “discovered” for someone like Roxane
Gay, who writes for national publications and has been dominating the internet
for years.<span> </span>Her Twitter feed is a work of
art, her book <i>Bad</i> <i>Feminist</i> was a viral success, and the
lengthy Tumblr posts she used to write about books, films, music, and
television were inspiring analyses of pop culture.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />So I don’t mean it,
really, that I “discovered” Gay when I read her story “North Country” in 2014’s
<i>Best American Short Stories</i>, but that
was the first time I learned about her, and I really loved that story.<span> </span>Recently, I read her memoir, <i>Hunger</i>, which came out in June, which Gay
says was <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/roxane-gay-decided-to-write-about-fat--her-own-it-took-her-to-some-painful-places/2017/06/10/d773fea4-4169-11e7-adba-394ee67a7582_story.html?utm_term=.4a1f5c8966f5">unbelievably
difficult to write</a>. <span> </span>That book is about
a gang rape she endured as a young person that led to her gaining hundreds of
pounds so she might feel “safe,” and the body issues she faces as a fat woman
in our society.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />As Gay’s memoir of her body unfolds, her resistance to
detailing the rape in lengthy scene becomes clear.<span> </span>She tells enough to recount the horror, but doesn’t
take the reader all the way there, a fact I find truly remarkable.<span> </span>Not because I mind when writers go there, but
because I strongly believe some stories belong to one’s own life, and should be
shared only when the writer feels ready to do so.<span> <br /><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In general, Gay’s writing is often self-deprecating and full
of humor.<span> </span>The tone of <i>Hunger</i> is understandably grave, but there
are plenty of moments of light.<span> </span>Here’s one
I related to immensely:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />“I have always worried that I am not strong. Strong people
don’t find themselves in the vulnerable situations I have found myself in . . .
Before October 10, 2014 [when she broke her ankle], I was running myself into
the ground. I have always run myself into the ground, been relentless, pushed
and pushed, thought myself superhuman. You can do that when you’re twenty, but
when you’re forty, the body basically says, ‘Get a grip. Have a seat. Eat some
vegetables and take your vitamins.’” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It’s not that I have worried that I’m not strong.<span> </span>In fact, I have probably leaned too hard on strength
for much of my life.<span> </span>But when I became a
parent, I had to learn to soften, A LOT. <span> </span>It has been a welcome assignment for me.<span> </span><span> </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gay continues, “I came to many realizations in the aftermath
of breaking my ankle. The most profound…was that part of healing is taking care
of your body and learning how to have a humane relationship with your body.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Amen to that.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I binge read most of <a href="http://bitchesgottaeat.blogspot.com/">Samantha Irby</a>’s hysterical second
book <i><a href="https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/253047/we-are-never-meeting-in-real-life-by-samantha-irby/"><span style="font-style: normal;">We Are Never Meeting in Real Life</span></a></i> over
a few glorious cold nights in October when I couldn’t face life and had to go
to bed at seven o’clock.<span> </span>(Note: I am
right back there, now that it’s December.<span>
</span>Hello, pajamas and snuggling in bed with kiddos.)<span> </span>When I had to briefly return the book to my
library so other people could read it (jerks!), I was in serious withdrawal
without <a href="http://bitchesgottaeat.blogspot.com/">Irby’s addictive voice
and nearly flawless rhythm</a> running beneath my days.<span> </span></span></span><br /><br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I started her first book, <i>Meaty</i>, about
four minutes after I finished <i>We Are
Never Meeting in Real Life</i>, and found <i>Meaty</i>
darker, denser, and maybe a little cruder.<span>
</span>Irby runs full speed toward raunchy jokes and subjects in general (she
explains glibly in an essay that she’s uniquely able to do so because both her
parents are deceased), but there’s an element of self-acceptance and
self-forgiveness in <i>We Are Never Meeting
in Real Life</i> which, shocker, makes it easier to read.<span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />One of the things that struck me, among many, when I read this
second book, was how long it took Irby to find her footing emotionally, so to
speak, and it reminded me of something I’ve seen again and again with creative
people.<span> </span>Writers, especially, often
suffer from excruciatingly low self-esteem.<span>
</span>Perhaps everyone does, especially in their twenties, and maybe fewer
people have the ability or the need writers have, to talk about their lives
once things have sorted out a bit.<span>
</span>Still, I sometimes think back to friends who pursued law degrees or
medical degrees while I was writing letters in coffee shops and, later, working
in coffee shops behind the counter.<span>
</span>There are courses and schools where you can “study” writing (and I have
a degree from one of them), but the real work comes simply from years of
reading and sloppily aping what you see.<span>
</span>Hopefully the aping becomes less and less sloppy and maybe, one day, you
break out in a style all your own. <span> </span>(This
sounds like learning to adult in general, no?)<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I know plenty of people who knew they wanted to be writers
from a young age and had the tools and resources to pursue their goals, but I
know more people who felt like little freaks, who internalized what was a
natural, unaccounted-for brilliance as something to hide, or be embarrassed
about, or ignore.<span> </span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />At first glance, Irby’s hilarious take-down of the men she’s
dated seems unrelated to her confidence as a writer, but it seems no mystery to
me that Irby wrote <i>We Are Never Meeting
In Real Life</i>, a whiz-bang of a book, while living with a woman she loves,
who both supports her emotionally and gives her the leeway she needs. <span> </span>I’m not saying you need to be in a
relationship to make good art, but I do think running around with people who
don’t entirely get you makes it difficult to pursue anything that will make you
happy in the long run.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also, I love how Irby staunchly defends her long-held
position as the receptionist of a veterinary office, saying not every job has
to be a career.<span> </span>I find a lot of comfort
in this. <span> </span>A history of career ambiguity
and/or hourly wages won’t help you much at a cocktail party, but sometimes the
most important work of your life isn’t resume-ready.<span> </span>As a culture obsessed with winning, I think we
don’t elevate plain, un-glorious slogs enough.<span>
</span>Not having an impressive title is humbling, which is almost always a
good thing. <span> </span>It can also be useful: sometimes
it provides the anonymity to pursue what you love without a spotlight. <span> </span>I personally find this kind of psychic space soothing,
even inspiring. Besides, it’s insulting to
insist on finding a single combination of words to describe the vastness of who
we really are inside.
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Speaking of who we really are inside, Tim and I watched <i>Lion</i> over Thanksgiving break and it was
really, really moving.<span> </span>I was finally
ready for what I knew would be a heart-breaking story, and I held Ellis and
cried through much of it.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br />I also read one of Tim’s favorite books recently, called <i>Snapper</i>. <span> </span>It’s a novel with a few problems, some forgivable,
others less so.<span> </span>I had a hard time knowing
when the narration was in the present tense or in backstory, and its portrait
of female characters troubled me much of the time, but its skewering of some aspects
of midwestern culture is so, so satisfying.<span>
</span>Plus, I learned a lot about Bloomington, Indiana, while reading it.<span> </span>How often can you say that?</span></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If I were a different person, this would be where my 2017
Holiday Gift Guide goes, but unless you want a dish in the shape of a banana from
an antique store, you probably don’t want my shopping advice. <span> </span>In fact, I’m reaching a bit when I say I shop
at antique stores, a point underscored this August when my brother aptly called
a place we were headed to “the junk shop.” <span> </span>It honestly never occurred to me that he was right
until he said it, but that’s where you’ll find me lately: wedging junk store
finds onto the shelves of my home, inexplicably watching interviews with old members
of Nirvana, and pretending, on good days, to run at the gym.<span> </span>
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />I hope you are having some gloriously plain days of your
own, wherever you are. </span></span><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">P.S. Wilco just re-released their first two albums, <i>A</i>.<i>M</i>.
and <i>Being</i> <i>There</i>.<span> </span>In a miracle of timing
and technology, I emailed myself <a href="http://uproxx.com/music/the-celebration-rock-podcast-jeff-tweedy-john-stirratt-wilco/">an
interview with Jeff Tweedy and bassist John Stirratt</a> about making those two
records and actually listened to it. <span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Wilco has maybe been my favorite band since I discovered (there’s
that ludicrous word again) them in my early twenties.<span> </span>At the time, I called my best friend who grew
up outside of Chicago and shouted, accusingly: WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THESE
GUYS? <span> </span>MY WHOLE LIFE HAS BEEN A FRAUD.<span> </span>To say I was obsessed with <i>Summerteeth </i>is a gross
understatement.<span> </span>I spent every waking
hour listening to that album, which at the time meant carting a clunky portable
CD player around the streets of New York City, walking to work with it,
sleeping with it under my pillow.<span> </span>I’ve
widened my circle a bit since then, making way for other rockers and softer
crooners - and more importantly, musicians not cranking out sounds that are
exciting to adults but hell on the two developing brains currently dominating my
house - but I might always look to Jeff Tweedy’s thoughts on making art,
because they are so dang good. <br /></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFtNtS_adwPB11qJxZk2XQ1EefLAwg2nM1ot_cubdprx6z-RcW4-wE7DfFIZxqpiB6gt1zxTODCOLgeXjv4lza-tjb5pkQICMdopV-grOLAqGZP4PnoDtZxNIhmFzHEEpTFXZi3J0d-Hm/s1600/IMG_4287.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFtNtS_adwPB11qJxZk2XQ1EefLAwg2nM1ot_cubdprx6z-RcW4-wE7DfFIZxqpiB6gt1zxTODCOLgeXjv4lza-tjb5pkQICMdopV-grOLAqGZP4PnoDtZxNIhmFzHEEpTFXZi3J0d-Hm/s640/IMG_4287.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />While discussing the feedback-drenched song “Misunderstood” from
the band’s second album, <i>Being There</i>
- a double album and sharp departure from the alt-country sounds his first
band, Uncle Tupelo, was known for - Tweedy says:</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />“We had built up to ‘Misunderstood’ by playing it live.<span> </span>In hindsight . . . we were training ourselves
to embrace the notion that there is no failure possible, that there’s only
communication, and that your vulnerabilities – if you make the wrong choice
musically, or if you make the wrong choice lyrically – as long as you’re out
there being unafraid of failing, you are entertaining in a righteous way.”<span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Later, while discussing a Bob Dylan song, he says:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />“I’m always philosophically not entirely sure that one piece
of art is actually that valuable, versus the inspiration to make art.<span> </span>The ability for people to make art and
inspire other people to make art, to me, seems way more valuable than any one
painting or poem or song or record.”<span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />It’s not a mind-blowing thing to say, but I appreciate it
because I think a capitalist culture somewhat willfully misunderstands what it
means to create. The point of making things – songs or books or cookies or blog
posts, I would say - is not necessarily to arrive at an aesthetically-pristine product,
but for the artist to go through the process of making it and the audience to
go through the process of receiving it.<span>
</span>It’s perhaps why, at this point in my life, I’m not sorry when I read a
bad book by a favorite author.<span> </span>It’s
exciting to watch someone I respect keep trying, whether they sometimes
miss the bar or not.<span> <br /><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I could loop this back around to part of an interview I
watched of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4TPRH2uK9w">Kris Novoselic
talking about his favorite thing to do</a> (pour a glass of wine and listen to
a record by himself in his house) but you’ve got your own late-night YouTubing to do.<span> </span>But <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2017/12/let-me-guide-you.html">here</a> is my
good friend Amelia articulating (while recommending a book called <i>You Must Change Your Life</i>) how there are
so many men with thoughts about making art - duh, their partners are home wiping their
children’s chins and bums or at the store buying that wine they like to drink
so much!<span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />And <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/2016/12/bon-appetempt-sut-nam-bonsai-gift-guide.html">here</a>
is the joint gift guide we did last year on her blog, <a href="http://www.bonappetempt.com/">Bon App<span>é</span>tempt</a>, recommending books
and only books.<span> </span>I still say, if you only
read one book this year, you should make it Dave Holmes’ beautiful, side-splitting
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Party-One-Memoir-21-Songs-ebook/dp/B014NZGSGW/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1512747632&sr=8-2&keywords=party+of+one">Party
of One</a></i>, and I am personally curious about Kelly Corrigan’s new book, <a href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/kelly-corrigan/tell-me-more/">Tell
Me More</a>.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Mention"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Smart Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hashtag"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Unresolved Mention"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:8.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:107%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif;
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}
</style>
<![endif]--></div>
Karahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05188240393702813228noreply@blogger.com0