books

The Seven and a Half Deaths of Eveyln Hardcastle

KellieAnn

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Have you ever seen the funny, slightly dark comedy Groundhog Day, in which the hilarious Bill Murray lives the same iconic day over and over again?

How about the prim and proper BBC show Downton Abbey, where a family of British aristocrats intermingle and share the drama with their colorful and full-bodied staff?

Have you read any of Agatha Christie’s novels where puddles in the alcove, open windows, and missing keys all carry their weight in significance and intrigue?

Have you played the board game Clue, in which you have nearly a dozen rooms, colorful suspects, old-fashioned weapons, and a pair of dice to solve a crime?

If you answered yes to any of the above, then you will have some understanding of Stuart Turton’s mind-bending murder mystery, The Seven and a Half Deaths of Eveyln Hardcastle.  It is a healthy mix of all of those stories, with a sprinkling of The Twilight Zone, along with its own unique twists, turns, drops of blood, dark corridors, rainy nights, and distant gunshots.

Nineteen years after a mysterious murder at the Blackheath House, the family and associates are lured back to the estate on the anniversary of the death of young Thomas Hardcastle.  However, this time, it’s his older sister Evelyn’s life that is in danger.

Turton has basically written a love story to Agatha Christie with this creative work.  While his narrative is completely original, it smacks on every page of Christie’s genius plot turns and vivid characterizations.  I felt exactly the same way I did when I read And Then There Were None, when I got to the deliciously frustrating point that I couldn’t figure out any possible way the mystery would be solved…but then it did!  Turton’s tale has the same elements of desperation, intrigue, and mind-baffling clues, which all resolve in a way you could never in a million years see coming.

As a reader and lover of the traditional classics, I am always wondering which of my current, contemporary reads may be the next modern classic.  Which one can stand the test of time?  Which one has reached the lofts of the literary greats?  Which one will be reread and recommended time and time again?  Which will have characters, themes, and plot twists which will not be forgotten?  I honestly believe that The Seven and Half Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle could be one.

Read it.  Take some Ibuprofen for the slight headache you’ll develop.  Then read some more.

books

The Little Paris Bookshop Review

KellieAnn

I had never heard of this book, The Little Paris Bookshop, by Nina George, when I picked it up and added it to my growing stack of books that I was purchasing at B&N with a generous Christmas gift card.  I bought it on the basis of the back cover description:

Monsieur Perdu is a literary apothecary.  From his floating bookstore in a barge on the Seine, he prescribes novels for the hardships of life.  Using his intuitive feel for the exact book a reader needs, Perdu mends broken hearts and souls.  The only person he can’t seem to heal is himself; he’s still haunted by heartbreak after his great love disappeared.  She left him with only a letter that he has never opened…

The description goes on for another paragraph or so, but honestly they had me at “literary apothecary” and “floating bookstore.”  Just stop.  Take my money.

Reading this book was a little bit of a lesson in bait and switch for me.  Surprisingly enough, I didn’t like this book…like, at all.  The idea of it is so, so good, but about a third of the way in, I was completely disappointed, and I could hardly stand it.

The majority of my letdown centers around the protagonist, Jean Perdu, who basically turns out to be a putz. That line from above: “…a letter that he has never opened,”… Well, I just lazily glazed over that in making my decision to purchase and read this book, being blinded by the idea of a cozy, floating book clinic, but that point became infuriating to me as the plot progressed.  Perdu is the apothecary, but he’s the one who needs healing (…and honestly, if I was his apothecary, a good kick in the pants).  I probably could have endured Perdu and his simpering moody quirks with more patience if I had any enthusiasm for some of the other characters…but I didn’t.  I didn’t like or relate to any of them.

Aside from the glaring lack of any good, admirable characters, I felt the plot was also a bit of a mess.  Without giving away any spoilers, Perdu ends up taking a physical and emotional journey on his barge, and I struggled throughout it with his stops and detours and the very vague points I think the author was trying to make by them.  The plot meandered, ironically like a barge, through the waters of Perdu’s angst, insecurities, and disappointments without ever satisfying this reader with anything that looked like real healing or redemption.

I was just so over Perdu and his self-pity and stagnant intentions that I raced through the last third of the book just to see how it ended.  The only satisfaction I had at the conclusion was that it did, indeed, end, and I could start my next, hopefully better, read.

While I’m not alone in my opinion of The Little Paris Bookshop, there are plenty who seemed to like this book and champion Perdu and his odd journey. Nina George isn’t a horrible writer.  The prose was well crafted, and I did jot down a few quaint quotes into my literature journal.  However, I just can’t bring myself to prescribe (Ha!  See what I did there?) this novel to anyone.

chit-chat

an unneeded, pitiful explanation as to why i haven’t been blogging

KellieAnn

In case you didn’t know, I haven’t blogged since November.  I thought you might like to know why.  So, here are my reasons…

1.  I don’t have time for this nonsense.

I really don’t.  I really, really don’t.  I have tried to make time and failed.  I have tried to steal time and failed.  I have tried to invent time and failed.  I’m going to give you many more reasons why I haven’t been blogging, but basically they are all going to come back to this one in some way.

2.  I am distracted.

I live in a house with an active, noisy family.  I home school my boys.  So, that means I am basically never alone.  I also never…and I mean never…have a time when I don’t have anything else to do.  Oh, I may pretend.  I may sit in my comfy chair and think I’m just going to read a chapter of this novel because I have nothing else to do, but it’s an ugly lie.  At any given moment there are dishes to wash, or a floor to sweep, or a meal to prepare, or a bill to mail, or a text to answer, or a dog to feed, or stubborn red dirt to scrub out of the knees of baseball pants, or papers to grade, or…you get the picture.  I have a hard time putting all that stuff on the sideboard of my life in order to sit here and peck away at the keyboard…as much as I’d like to.

3.  I’m technically stupid.

Technologically.  About technology.  I’m stupid when it comes to technology.  About ten years ago, when I first started blogging, I eventually had most of what I needed to know to run my blog figured out.  Then I took that five year hiatus, and now I’m stupid.  And guess what?  I have no time (see #1) to try to figure things out.  Everything is harder and newer, and I don’t know what a byte is or a plugin or periscope…, and yeah…I’m stupid, and I’m probably just going to stay that way and blog through my stupidity or give up trying.

4.  I don’t know what I want to blog about.

I mean I do.  I think I want to blog about too much.  I want to blog about homeschooling, and family, and crafts, and home decor, and books, and faith, and…  See?  It’s overwhelming.  I’ve never figured out if it is ok to blog about all of those things, or if I should just focus on one of those things, or if I should have like seven different blogs to blog separately about those things, or if I should just stop blogging and go feed my dog.

5.  I feel a little  a lot irrelevant.

I learned long ago that if you are blogging for others…the praise of others, the notice of others, the assurance of others…then you are going to be disappointed.  Blogging…or any kind of writing for that matter…, at least at the very heart of the issue, has to be for yourself first.  It may grow to fit around some kind of audience, but it has to grow from your heart, or it will lack authenticity.  But yet, I still struggle with balancing that.  If you’re blogging, you want someone to read it, but if it feels like no one is, then you start to question what in the world you’re doing…especially if your floor needs swept.  Maybe you know people are reading, but no one is saying anything about it.  No comments.  No feedback.  Again, you start to question what and why you’re doing it.  Is it an outlet?  Is it a job?  Is it a hobby?  Is it a duty?  And then, you don’t know the answer, so you shut your laptop and go unload your dishwasher.

 

So, in a nutshell (key word:  nut), that is why I haven’t been blogging.  Does this post mean that I’m going to start blogging regularly?  I don’t know.  I’d like to.  Honestly, I think about blogging a lot.  I have a lot of ideas, but then…  #1…and #4…and of course, #3.

I’m in a really busy season of my life.  The daughter is getting married in June, and sometimes I like to pretend that things are going to go smoothly and that I’m not busy with the details of that.  I also like to pretend that I’m still 22 years old and weigh 110 pounds.  Neither fantasy is going really well.  High school baseball season is starting in a week.  We only have 427 games in a two month period.  Not really, but every time I look at that schedule the page starts to blur, and I feel dizzy, and I think I smell Cracker Jacks.  And then, of course, there’s everything else (see #1 and #2).

So, that’s that.  Here’s a picture of me making a duck face and throwing a gang sign, because I’m awkward like that.  And now, I have to go make a bed…or something.

Thanksmas 2015-0693

chit-chat

forty-three random things in celebration of my forty-third year

KellieAnn

Last week was my birthday.  My 43rd birthday.  {Sigh}

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I was trying to think of something clever or interesting about turning forty-three to post about.  I failed.  What ensued was a bunch of nostalgic, random thoughts, which I am going to attempt to turn into forty-three…things, I guess.  Are these things interesting?  Hmmm…probably depends on who you are.  Are these things educational?  Yes.  I mean, no. No, definitely not educational…you know, in the educational sense.  Are these things funny?  No.  I mean, yes.  I mean it probably depends on your definition of “funny,” which probably means no, not funny.  Probably.  Are these things important?  Oh my gosh…yes.  Maybe.  Enough questions.  I have forty-three “things” to write…

 

  1.  I was born in the same year (1972) that the following things happened:  The Godfather, abortion was made legal, Bloody Sunday (the actual event, not the U2 song), and Jane Fonda was photographed sitting atop a N. Vietnamese anti-aircraft gun.
  2. When I was fourteen years-old, I had quite an extensive unicorn collection.  I had them displayed on a shelf on an opposite wall of our family bathroom.  Once, when a maintenance crew was fixing something in our bathroom, it caused the shelf to fall off my wall and break most of my unicorns.  It was a tearful experience, and I eventually sold the rest of them in a yard sale.  I regret that.  Last week I bought a tee-shirt for myself at Target with the slogan:  “I Should Have Been a Unicorn.”
  3. I like peanut butter and jelly UnCrustables.  I eat one occasionally frozen.  Basically this means that my taste buds have not matured beyond about eleven years of age.
  4. I was raised a Navy “brat.”  I lived in Indiana, California (San Francisco and San Diego); Orlando, Florida; Great Lakes, Illinois; and Charleston, South Carolina…all before I was twelve.  I attended nine different schools before I graduated in 1990.
  5. I did not see The Karate Kid movie until 2004, even though I was a teenager in the 80s.
  6. I drink at least one cup of coffee everyday.  If I don’t, I get a headache.  This means I’m addicted to the caffeine, but I don’t really care.
  7. My favorite color is green.  My second favorite color is grey.  My third favorite color is goldenrod, like the crayon.  Okay, I’ll stop there.
  8. My favorite pen to write with is a fine tip Sharpie.  They are so smooth.  Like butter…except ink.
  9. I’m not very good at similes.  I’m crap.
  10. I’m not very good at metaphors either.
  11. I love dogs, especially those with smooshy faces, like Boston terriers, boxers, and English bulldogs.
  12. I collect vintage Little Golden books.  I say “vintage,” but that may not be true.  I collect ones that are older, that I either had in my childhood or that I recognize from my childhood or before.  I especially like the ones with Eloise Wilkin illustrations, but so does everyone else, so they’re hard to find.
  13. I got married at eighteen years-old.  It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college.  The only thing that bothers me about this, is that I always feel like I have to say my age with how many years I’ve been married for fear that someone will think I’m way older than I really am.
  14. I love Mexican food, especially salsa and margaritas.  Actually, I’m not sure they count as food…
  15. I read a lot.  Mostly fiction.  Mostly classic fiction.  Mostly old copies of classic fiction.  I realize this is getting nerdier and nerdier.
  16. I played slow-pitch softball in middle and high school and a couple of years as an adult. I was a pitcher and the lead-off batter.  I was pretty good, but I always put on make-up and did my hair before games.  I also refused to wear my hat or tuck in my shirt.  When it was hot, I would tie my sleeves on the top of my shoulders with color-coordinated ribbons.  All of these things bothered my dad, who was my coach for some of the years I played, immensely.
  17. My favorite movie of all time is Robin Hood:  Prince of Thieves, even though I think Kevin Costner made a pretty dumb Robin.  For me, it’s all about Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham.  Pure brilliance.
  18. I like to color and doodle, but I can’t draw.
  19. My wedding ring is kinda stuck on my finger.  When I was pregnant with my oldest, I had preclampsia, and my fingers swelled very quickly and greatly.  My ring actually got badly misshapen from it, and now I can only get it off if I work at it with lotion or soap or something.  Losing fifteen pounds might work too.
  20. I’m allergic to amoxicillin, penicillin, ampicillin, erythrimiacin, and all sulfa drugs.  Taking antibiotics is precarious for me.
  21. I’ve never broken a bone of my own, but I once broke a bone that belonged to my sister.  I did it by launching her from my feet into our neighbor’s Christmas tree.  It was April of 1986.  Long story.
  22. I really, really, really like for my socks to coordinate with my outfit…even if you can’t see them.
  23. As a kid, I wanted to marry someone with the last name of Kennedy because I thought Kellie Kennedy was really cute.  Fortunately, I never met anyone I liked with that name.
  24. I am a huge Chicago Bears and Cubs fans.  I don’t care about the White Sox or basketball in general.
  25. My favorite season is autumn.  My second favorite is winter.  My third favorite is spring.  I have a strong dislike for summer, except for the time off.
  26. I don’t mind doing laundry, dusting, dishes, or cleaning bathrooms.  I loathe sweeping and vacuuming.
  27. I hardly ever watch TV.  Occasionally I will watch sports or something on HGTV.  Netflix is another matter entirely.
  28. I have a pretty healthy office supply fetish.  Paper, folders, pens, pencils, paperclips, highlighters…I love them.  I love them all.  And I must have them all.  In lots and lots of colors.  Did I say ‘healthy’?
  29. As a teenager, I lived to talk on the phone.  I did it for hours.  And hours.  And hours.  Now I avoid it at all costs.  Text me.  Email me.  Message me.  Send me a carrier pigeon.  Please, please don’t call me.  Please.
  30. I burn a lot of scented candles.  Yankees are my faves.  “They” are now saying that burning scented candles is as bad for you as living with a smoker.  Well, just call me Marlboro Man because I’m not stopping.
  31. I have three children.  Last year my oldest started her freshmen year of college, my middle started his freshmen year of high school, and my youngest started kindergarten.  Boom!
  32. I think the three most difficult things I’ve ever dealt with in my life were my parents’ divorce when I was 14, my grandmother’s death in 2003, and my middle son’s struggles with epilepsy which was most of last year (he will be completely seizure-free for a whole year on Dec. 3).
  33. My favorite books (I can’t pick just one) are A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Thorn Birds, and Pride and Prejudice (this list doesn’t include the Bible…).
  34. Hmmmm….well…uhhhh…can we just pretend I turned 33 and call it a night?  I’m running out of “things,” I think…
  35. Two of my sisters-in-laws and I once tried to spy on a one-room Mennonite school house.  They were having some sort of social gathering at night.  We crept through a corn field on our hands and knees, wearing all black, using a night vision device…yes, night vision…but we couldn’t see a darn thing.  And then we got caught, which was awkward.
  36. I am not a good swimmer.  I’m actually not a fan of the beach, pools, or water in general.  Except bubble baths.  I’m a big fan of bubble baths.
  37. I have 2,368 unread, undeleted emails in my inbox.  Yeah, in some areas, I’m a red hot mess.
  38. At age almost 40, I traveled outside of the country for the first time.  I went to Mongolia.  My travel motto is:  “Go big, or go home.”  Not really, but it should be.
  39. I like driving, except in high traffic.  If I’m not driving, I get very sleepy, and doze off, and get cramps in my neck, and drool.
  40. About two decades ago, when I got my first teaching job, I got the edge of my skirt caught in the wheels of my rolling chair.  I had a room full of tenth graders, and I was literally stuck seated in my chair.  I was able to signal to a girl in the front row, who helped release it without hardly any of them knowing.
  41. Also, thinking of my first teaching job, I was once writing a homework assignment on the board.  I was assigning a set of questions from the book called “Think it Throughs,” but in stead of writing that all out, I decided to abbreviate, so I wrote, “Do the TITS #s 1-4, p. 112.”  Thankfully, I caught my faux pas before any students were in the room.  I decided to just call them “Thinks.”
  42. I found out recently that Netflix keeps track of what you watch on their Instant Streaming.  They created a category under my profile called, “British Period Pieces Based on Literature featuring Strong Female Leads.”  Netflix may know me better than my own mother.
  43. Once, when I turned 43, I decided to write 43 “things” about myself.  It was hard.  It took me a couple of days.  I wept.  I gnashed my teeth.  I rent my clothing.  But then I finished, and I was glad.  And, I’ll bet, so are you (that I’m finished…not necessarily that I did this).

 

chit-chat

mother-of-the-bride dresses (aka-“don’t look at my shoulders” sacks)

KellieAnn

I have mentioned before that I am to be the mother-of-the-bride next June.  This fact has brought on many thoughts and emotions since my daughter’s engagement last March.  Happiness, excitement, twinges of sadness, nostalgia…all of it.  However, the one emotion that keeps rising, and I keep trying to keep at bay is panic.  I’m not panicked over finances or the food or the guest list.  I’m panicked over what I’m going to wear.  Yes.  There…I said it.  I’m a self-absorbed woman, plagued with vanity.  My only daughter is getting married, and I’ve spent more time looking at mother-of-the bride dresses than I have wedding gowns.

The thing is I think it’s fairly easy when you’re young and pretty and thin to find a wedding gown that is going to be beautiful.  I am not worried one bit that we will find a perfect gown for my daughter that fits that description.  But when you’re  not young and have to work really hard to achieve something that’s not quite pretty, and not thin….well, it is harder.

And let me tell you something else…  The manufacturers of said mother-of-the-bride dresses have not made the task any easier with some of the monstrosities that have shown up after a couple of Google searches.  I just…I can’t…I can’t even…  The cuts, the colors, the accessories, even the models they sometimes use are largely ridiculous.  Before I started searching out and investigating these types of outfits, I had no idea of what I was supposed to wear.  I’m guessing something that will sort of go with the color scheme of the wedding, and apparently I’m not supposed to wear beige.  That is for the mother-of-the-groom.  I’m not sure why.  I didn’t write these rules.

Now that I’ve perused the internet a bit, I’ve also learned something else:  no shoulders.  Ever.  I’m serious.  A bride and all her maids can bear shoulder after shoulder after shoulder, but for the mothers it is the worst cardinal sin.  I find this interesting because my shoulders are two of the least offensive body parts I own right now.  I was sort of thinking that if I got to show my shoulders that maybe no one would look at my thighs or my ankles or my hair, which is bound to frizz that day.  But no.  Absolutely no shoulders.

Don’t believe me?  Oh, I have proof of this shoulderless world of bride mothers…

SPECIMEN #1:  YOU CAN LOOK AT THIS FITTED BLAZER, BUT DON’T YOU DARE PEEK AT MY SHOULDERS.

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I mean all 5’2″ of me would look ridiculous in this number, with or without the extreme shoulder coverage, but still…  I think they have even glued the collar to her neck, so you won’t get one little peek.

SPECIMEN #2:  I SEE YOU TRYING TO LOOK AT MY SHOULDERS, SO I’M GOING TO DISTRACT YOU WITH A RUFFLE OR TWO…OR TWENTY

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…and if the ruffles don’t work, the hideous flower pinned right by my cheek will surely make you forget that I have shoulders under this little bolero.  Has anyone really worn a bolero since 1986?  Anyone?  Anyone?

SPECIMEN #3:  YOU WILL NOT SEE MY SHOULDERS, EVEN IF IT MEANS MY LOOKING LIKE A TALL, THIN MUSHROOM.

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Again, a short person like me really would look like a mushroom, but honestly…what were they thinking?!  Obviously, that the shoulders of someone over forty are worse than forest fungi.

SPECIMEN #4:  JUST FORGET MY SHOULDERS AND LOOK AT ALL OF THIS WONDERFUL, FLOWING GAUZE

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If I were going to go to these lengths (no pun intended) to cover my shoulders, I’d probably just opt for a knit shawl.  At least that would be a little funky and fun.  This is like dressing in your drapes, but not in the super chic Scarlet O’Hara way.  It’s more like my Great Aunt Maude way.

SPECIMEN # 5:  YOU DON’T LIKE GAUZE ON MY SHOULDERS?  ALL RIGHT, THEN HOW ABOUT STREAMING FROM MY WAIST?

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I think it’s fair to say that someone would need to walk in front of me carrying a portable fan to achieve this look.  Who needs flower girls?!  I need a fan girl.  And all of this to forget that I have shoulders….

SPECIMEN #6:  STRIPES (BIG, FAT, BLUE ONES) ARE THE NEW SHOULDERS.

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And on another note, are ALL mother-of-the-bride models six feet tall?

SPECIMEN #7:  MY FAIR LADY HAT.  BIG BLACK CORSAGE.  OBNOXIOUS STATEMENT NECKLACE.  POORLY PLACED LACE.  WHAT SHOULDERS?

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I’d almost wear something like this just for the laugh.  Almost.

SPECIMEN # 8:  THIS HAT WILL MAKE YOU FORGET THAT GOD EVER CREATED SHOULDERS.

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No words.  None.

SPECIMEN #9:  PLEASE, LOOK AT MY CLEAVAGE INSTEAD OF MY SHOULDERS.  PLEASE.

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Or if the cleavage doesn’t interest you, you may choose the monochromatic bow just under my cleavage as your focal point.  Your choice.

SPECIMEN #10:  A LITTLE BIT OF LA…UH, WAIT A MINUTE…I THINK I MIGHT LIKE THIS ONE…

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Yes.  A different color combo, but this one actually has potential.  I haven’t completely lost my faith in humanity or matronly dress designers.  And guess what?  You can kinda see her shoulders!

Disclaimer:  The names of these specimen dresses are not real.  If you’re actually interested in one of these dresses and apply the above titles to a Google search, the writer of this article will not be held responsible for what turns up in your feed.

chit-chat

the fable of annaleigh, the ant, and the ear

KellieAnn

A couple of early mornings ago my daughter, Annaleigh, called me from college.  Usually this is a happy thing.  It usually means that I can hear about how her classes are going, how she’s getting along with the new roommates, what she ate for lunch, how much of our hard-earned money she’s spending on text books that the professor will not actually use, etc.  But on this particular occasion it was nothing short of utter confusion.  And a bit of terror.  And being mute.  And did I mention confusion?  It went down like this…

I was asleep.  I was dreaming.  I was dreaming that I was babysitting my friend’s little girl, and for some reason I was in a bowling alley.  Then some kind of alarm started going, and I kept thinking I should probably take the baby outside, but I just kept sitting in the bowling alley.

“Kellie.  Kellie!  KELLIE!  YOUR PHONE IS RINGING!”  Big D was shaking me awake, and the bowling alley and baby faded from my consciousness.  “No, it isn’t,” I mumbled.  But it was.  I could see now that it was lit up on my bedside table, ringing and ringing.

“Who is it?!” Big D wanted to know.  I squinted at the screen.  It was either Abraham Lincoln or Annaleigh.  I couldn’t quite tell because I wasn’t wearing my glasses or contacts, and my eyes were filmy.  I grabbed the device and held it close to my face.  “It’s Annaleigh,” I said, as I swiped to accept the call.

At this point, I’m thinking it’s probably about midnight.  I’m a little put off that she woke me up, but I’m not panicked or anything because she often calls late, after her studying, to tell us about her day and say goodnight.

“Oh my…it’s 2:30AM!” Big D exclaims.  2:30?  AM?  Oh no…

“Hefflelow?” I mumble, realizing my mouth isn’t really working yet.

“Mom?  I’m sorry I woke you up, but I have a problem…”

Her voice sounds steady.  I don’t hear background noises that sound like a Nashville emergency room.  No sirens.  No heavy breathing of a kidnapper.  My pulse slows down a bit.  “It’s okay,” I said.  “What’s wrong?”

“Mom, I think an ant is in my ear.”

I pull the phone away and look at the screen again.  Annaleigh.  Not Abraham Lincoln.  Not Ant Man.  I’m not still in my bowling alley dream that morphed into a Civil War dream that morphed into my college daughter telling me she’s the next Avenger.  I said the only thing I could think of saying:  “Wha…?”

“An ant, Mom.  I think an ant crawled into my ear.  I can kinda feel it crawling around.”

I had a dilemma.  If I panicked, it would scare her.  If I laughed, it might hurt her feelings.  If I didn’t say something, I was going to fall asleep.  “Okay,” I said.  Brilliant.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do.  How do I get it out?”

I had no idea.  I’m an English major, for Pete’s sake.  As far as I know, I’ve never had to remove an insect from inside of my body.  I glanced over at Big D, who may have dozed back off.  He might be more help.  He once had a peanut stuck up his nose.  Granted, he was in third grade, but he still might be more help than I was at the moment.  I wondered what Abraham Lincoln would tell someone who had an ant in their ear…

“I already tried to wake up my roommate, but I couldn’t.  Mom, what should I do?”

In all honesty, I wanted to say to give the roommate another try.  Shake her really hard.  Force her to get out of bed and get the darn ant out of your ear.  I mean what are roommates for, if not for early morning ant extraction?!  But I didn’t say that.  I think I said, “Um.”

“I already tried Q-tips.”

Drats!  I had just thought of that.  A fuzzy idea involving hot water and a straw was starting to surface…  “Well, I….maybe…”

“Mom, I can feel it walking around…like inside my head.”

I swear at this point that I heard “The Twilight Zone” music.  Actually, this was beginning to look up a bit.  Surely, I won’t have to actually leave my bed, drive forty minutes to her college, and take her to the emergency room.  This is how super heroes are born.  Let the ant crawl into her brain, and then my daughter will have super ant powers, which include….  Hmmm…what do they include?  Foraging?  Hill-making?  Sugar-eating?  Whatever…I was already planning a logo.  It would be crimson and gold with a swirly black “A.”  We would call her, “Ant-a-leigh.”

“Mom, what should I do?”

This was it.  My moment of truth.  I could win Mother-of-the-Year.  Annaleigh would write a song about me.  Name her first child after me.  Or, at the very least, post on social media how I had saved her life. I just had to think…on about 23.2% brain power, mind you…how to get the ant out of her ear.

I said, “I don’t know.”

“Mom, I don’t know either!  I can feel it!  It’s walking around, Mom.  I think it’s going deeper!  What will happen if I can’t get it out?!  Mom, I…oh.  Wait a minute….  I…uh…I got it, Mom.  It’s out.”

It was out.  The ant was out of her ear.

My college sophomore daughter had called me at 2:30AM on a Wednesday morning because an ant had crawled into her ear.  It was walking around, and she was starting to panic.  And I had said a total of eight and half words, none of which were helpful to her in the slightest.

“Okay. Good.”  I was a regular wordsmith.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.  Goodnight.”

Oh, I am too, Abraham Lincoln….Ant-a-leigh…or whoever you are.  I am too.

“It’s okay.  ‘Night.  Love you,” I said instead.

Big D rolled over.  “What did she want?”

“She had an ant in her ear.  But it’s out now.  She used a Q-tip,” I said.

“An ant?  She had an ant in her ear?  Wow…okay.”  I think he was already drifting off again.

And the moral of this story, folks? Because, you know, fables always have morals… Never go bowling with Abraham Lincoln and your roommate after midnight with a Q-tip in your pocket, of course.  Sheesh.

 

 

home education

school room tour

KellieAnn

Almost every year before we start school, I overhaul our school room.  Some years the change has been more dramatic than others.  This year I mostly cleaned everything up, organized, and moved some things around a bit.

I always love to see how other people have organized and decorated their offices and homeschool spaces.  So, maybe, you’d like to see mine…  Here’s a video tour I made.  Enjoy!

chit-chat

top TEN favorite 80s songs

KellieAnn

I always hate the question, “What is your favorite song?”  This question always immediately brings up a host of response questions in my mind…What?!  Just one?   Which genre?  Which decade?  To listen to in the car?  To sing to the Lord?  To sing with my six year-old?    So, basically, I can’t answer this question.  And for the record, I hate the questions, “What is your favorite book?”  and “What is your favorite movie?” too.

Last week I had a bucket list experience:  I got to attend a Def Leppard concert!!!  Tesla and Styx were there too, but…DEF LEPPARD!  I have loved that band since I was about fifteen years-old.  I have always wanted to see them live, but yet the opportunity always eluded me.  But last Tuesday, I got to Rock, rock ’till I dropped.  Okay…I promise not to include their song titles all throughout this post, as tempting as that is…

The whole experience has caused me to reminisce about my favorite 80s tunes.  I tend to gravitate towards more hard rock selections, so this list is free of Madonna and Paula Abdul and Rick Astley.  Sorry to all of you pop fans, but not many of those make my top ten.

So, let’s countdown…

10.  “Separate Ways”  by Journey

I know.  I know.  Everyone loves “Don’t Stop Believin'”…  Yes, and that very thing has turned that song into a bit of a cliche, in my opinion.  Don’t get me wrong.  I still turn it up with the rest of you and sing along, but I’ve just always appreciated the hard rock riffs of this song.  Plus, the message is kinda cool.  Every girl would like to know that some guy that she apparently dumped, still has her back if her current guy hurts her.  Yeah…well…it’s just a song.  Undoubtably, Steve Perry has one of the best, most pure voices of the 80s, so any Journey song he sings is winner.

9.  “When Doves Cry,” by Prince

I couldn’t find a video of this one, since apparently Prince doesn’t want his stuff played on YouTube for free.  Aw, c’mon, Prince…  This is one of the few pop selections that make my list, but this is a very cool tune, and Prince is basically a musical genius, so I had to include something of his.

8.  “Sweet Child o’ Mine,” by Guns N’ Roses

A few GNR songs begged to be picked, but this is probably my favorite.  Several years back, when my now engaged daughter got her first cell phone, I used this as a ring tone when she called me, so it’s a tad nostalgic to her early teen years as well.  Plus I like Axl’s funky, wiggly legged dance he does.  And then, of course, there’s Slash…

7.  “Amadeus,” by Falco

Another song that probably falls into the pop category, but…but…Falco, and Wolfgang, and powdered wigs…  It’s so good and a little weird, and I’ve always loved it.

6.  “Here I Go Again,” Whitesnake

Again, no video.  Not because they aren’t available, but because the lead singer was obsessed with a certain buxom brunette model who prances around, scantily clad,  in ALL of their videos.  However, you can’t deny that Whitesnake probably has one of the most classic 80s rock sounds.  This song gave all of us who graduated in or near the 80s (I was c/o 1990), a great anthem to accompany packing our bags for college.

5.  “Back in Black,” AC/DC

Arguably, I could list almost any of AC/DC’s tunes, as they all sound pretty much the same.  Even though this one is probably one of their most recognizable, it still makes me happy every time it comes on the radio or they use a clip in a movie.  AC/DC has to be the most fist-pumpiest (yeah, it’s my blog, and I’ll make up words if I want to..) groups of the 80s, and this song is one of their only ones I can listen to from start to finish without feeling awash in guilt.  I mean moms driving their kids around town in their SUVs can hardly turn up the volume when “Highway to You-Know-Where” comes on.

4.  “Jump,” Van Halen

Another instantly recognizable 80s rock classic!  Van Halen is one of those groups that I feel were just a tad cheesy (probably thanks to David Lee Roth’s over-the-top-ness), but this song is ever-embedded in my brain as the Chicago Cubs’ theme song in the 80s, and I’m a huge Cub’s fan.  So, “jump” on!

3.  “Angel Eyes,” by the Jeff Healy Band

This is, perhaps, the least known song on my list.  This was popular the fall of my senior year.  I was living in Charleston, SC and had just experienced Hurricane Hugo.  We lost power for several days after that, but I had plenty of batteries for my boombox, and without TV and phone and school, I listenened to the radio a lot, and they played this song constantly that month.  The video is just slightly awkward, because Jeff Healy was legally blind, but the song references a woman’s physical appearance.  Instead of getting an actor or just embracing his handicap somehow, they sort of try to imply that he is literally seeing the woman…like, you know, visually.  And he obviously can’t.  But anyway, if I didn’t ruin it for you with that little tidbit, give it a listen.  It’s a beautiful ballad and worthy of a high spot on my list.

2.  “Rock of Ages,” Def Leppard  Ahem…I mean DEF LEPPARD!!!!

I’m not sure if Def Leppard ever released a song that I didn’t like.  “Love Bites” is not a favorite, but everything else makes my head bob involuntarily.  This is probably my favorite though.  I’m not a huge fan of the video.  I think it’s supposed to be creepy, and maybe in 1983 it was.  Oh well….  Long live rock n’ roll!

1. “In Your Eyes,” Peter Gabriel

Not of the hard rock genre, but still one of the most beautiful songs ever written.  This song gives me chills, even though I’ve probably heard it hundreds of times.  At the surface, there’s the scene from the teeny-boppy movie “Say Anything.” You know John Cusack and the boombox and the car and the rain and the trenchcoat.  But then the lyrics go beyond all that and can be as sincere and spiritual as any worship song.  It’s actually been covered fairly well by some modern worship artists a couple of times (granted, they still don’t sound like Peter Gabriel…).

So, there they are….my ten favorite 80s songs.  Are you an 80s music fans?  Did I miss your favorites?  Tell me what songs make you nostalgic for your jelly sandals and acrylic neon triangle earrings!

chit-chat

dear miss lee…an open letter to the author of Go Set a Watchman

KellieAnn
***WARNING:  The following commentary on Go Set a Watchman contains spoilers.  Read at your own risk.***
 Dear Miss Lee
Dear Miss Lee,

I, like many thousands of devoted fans of your wonderful book To Kill a Mockingbird, bought and read your “new” novel, Go Set a Watchman.  I tried my best to not read much about it leading up to its official release.  In our day of social media and internet news, this task was more difficult than I thought, and I did hit upon a few of the teasers and early reviews.  I knew going into this novel that it would be different, that I would likely be disappointed with some aspects.  I’m guessing you probably knew this too.  I’m guessing with Watchman actually being a first draft for Mockingbird that you might feel this way a little bit yourself.

Miss Lee, I have many questions about your recent book.  Many.  But they all begin with the same word:  Why.  I realize that you are now on the extreme side of elderly.  I realize that it is very unlikely that you will ever read this post.  I realize there are probably no answers to some of these questions.  But for my own peace of mind and sense of closure, I ask them anyway.  Feel free, my dear and few readers, to answer them if you feel you have a plausible explanation for any or all of the following…

Why is Jem dead?

Please excuse my bluntness, Miss Lee.  One of the main reasons most people wanted to read this novel is that we loved your characters, and we wanted to see what had happened to them and where they were in life in your new story.  To find out, ten pages in, that Jem is in fact, six feet under stopped me in my tracks.  I had to reread the passage several times.  It was mentioned so off-handedly, had happened a couple of years before this novel takes place, and was not central to what was going on in the novel at that point.  I almost stopped reading then and there.  If I had been near a body of water, I might have chucked my copy in.  No Jem?  No protector and tormentor of Scout?  No leader of the gang?  No maker-upper of games and stories?  How could this be?  I quickly did my math and realized that he would have only been about thirty years old.  Of course, I wanted to know what happened.  Of course, I trusted you to explain more.  And you did.  Still…I…well…Miss Lee, you didn’t have to go there.  I know you wrote this novel first.  I know you didn’t anticipate how much we would all love Jem and wish we had a big brother just like him.   Maybe you could have imagined him living somewhere else so that he didn’t have to be key to this plot, but…dead?!  So young?!  Miss Lee, this fact alone makes me want to take you and shake you by your frail eighty-nine year-old little shoulders until you do something about this.  Actually I’d never do that to anyone, let alone a little, old lady who probably has a lot of the Scout spirit in her and would kick me hard in the shins, but it does make me shake my head and wonder what you were thinking…  Surely you loved Jem just as much as we did.  Right?  Please tell me I’m right, Miss Lee!

Why doesn’t the plot go anywhere?

When I first read Mockingbird I was in the ninth grade, and it was assigned in my English class.  My family had about a four hour round trip drive to make, so I reluctantly stuck my trade paperback into my purse to take with me.  About thirty minutes into our drive I pulled it out and began.  I think I had about five chapters due in the next several days.  I groaned when I realized their length.  My reading tastes back then gravitated to Seventeen Magazine and the Sweet Valley High series.  However, I was almost instantaneously pulled into your mesmerizing story.  The plot was perfect and so intricately supported by your well-developed characters.  I was in awe.  I couldn’t put it down.  I finished it by the end of our trip, and to this day credit your fine novel with fostering a love of good, worthwhile literature.  Even amidst the flurry of controversy, I expected something similar in Watchman.  But the plot never really happens.  I’m an English teacher Miss Lee, so I read literature looking for some semblance of the line graph plot structure, and your rising action was sketchy and slow at best.  Your climax?  I’m sorry to say this to someone I respect so much, but it was lame, Miss Lee. I think of a literature climax as the point right before the final descent of a rickety wooden rollercoaster, but Watchmen‘s compared more to a neighborhood speed bump.  I was let down, and I’m not the only one.  I understand on this point alone why your publishers wanted you to rewrite/reconfigure your story.  The characters (minus the one you killed off…hmph!) are still there and are still engaging.  I hear your amazing writing voice in Watchman, Miss Lee; I’m just not overly compelled to stay up late and finish because there’s nothing that interesting going on.

Why didn’t you bring back Dill?

Dill is not dead, but in all honesty, Miss Lee, he might as well be.  It’s completely obvious that Scout (I’m sorry…I refuse to call her Jean Louise) is or could be in love with him, not Henry.  It’s very clear from her pining memories of him that he is her soul mate.  So, with all the other disappointment and disillusionment that Scout faces in this novel, why couldn’t we, your devoted readers, have a happy ending where Dill comes back from Europe, isn’t a bigot like everyone else we’ve grown to love, and sweeps Scout right off her loafered feet?  Is that asking too much?  I did appreciate the vignettes you included from their childhood.  A couple of them were long and very reminiscent of your first and more endearing novel.  As a reader, that is where I wanted to live…on the humid back lawn, playing pretend with Jem and Dill or creeping up into the balcony of the courthouse.  But those moments were too few and too far between.  It made me sad and always feeling like there was something just out of reach (that, by the way, is why I continued to read it and so quickly…thinking all the while that it just had to get better…there had to be something redemptive coming…)

Why the heck do you never mention Boo Radley?

Another reason I kept reading was for a mention of Boo.  I wasn’t expecting for Scout to meet him for a soda or anything.  But something.  I expected something.  Scout remembered everything:  nuances from her elementary days, Calpurnia’s facial expressions, what Atticus read to them, the clothes of Jem’s high school girl friend.  It’s completely unbelievable that the nostalgic two weeks she spends at home sparks no memories of her mysterious next door neighbor.  His mention didn’t need to be epic or long or even that noteworthy, but he drove the plot of Mockingbird and shared the heroic spotlight with Atticus.  He deserved at least a mention.

Why…Atticus?

Miss Lee, this is the hardest question I have to ask, and I’m getting a bit of a lump in my throat as I do, but why…WHY…did you find it necessary to throw Atticus under the bus?  Most of us read fiction to get away from reality, to believe that the ideal is possible.  You did this so beautifully and believably with Atticus in Mockingbird.  I understand that no one is perfect.  I understand that you are portraying 1950s southern culture realistically.  I understand that his character was based upon your own father and the influence of your own bigoted society had upon him over the years, but Atticus?!  Was that really necessary to get your point across?  Couldn’t you have just used Henry, whom none of us really liked anyway?  Did it have to be the real watchman of Maycomb?  All of this said, I liked your resolution.  I liked that both Atticus and Scout were more open-minded than what we expected.  I liked that they ended with respect and love for one another, despite that they didn’t necessarily completely understand one another.  That is real, and I thank you for that.

Miss Lee, I apologize that this letter that you will never read makes me sound like a whiny baby.  I really, really wanted to celebrate this book.  I wanted to sing its praises, skip and turn cartwheels, paint a mural, and roast a pig in its honor.  I wanted to so, so, so badly…but I just can’t.   I know that not every book ends up the way that we want them to.  I understand the publishing circumstances of this book were way out of the ordinary, and perhaps way out of your hands as well.  I get it.  I’ve read reviews of this book that have stated that Watchman has ruined future readings of Mockingbird.  I want you to know that I don’t feel that way.  I still love Mockingbird, and I still think it is one of the finest examples of good storytelling to hit the written page, and I will still faithfully read it every few years.  And I still love you.  I still love that you were inspired to invent these characters that we all adore and cherish and think of as friends.

I’ve had a lot of people ask me what I thought of your new book, and it has been a hard thing to answer, especially without spoiling it for them.  I have tried to convey that I believe this book is true to you, that it was a valiant first effort of yours, that you did the right thing to go back to the drawing board to create a better, glorious novel.  I am not sorry that now it has been published.  I am not sorry to have read it.  I am only sorry that it was not as good or as meaningful as To Kill a Mockingbird.  I’m sorry that I won’t want to read it over and over again.  But, you know what?  I feel exactly that way about almost every book I read, so if nothing else, Miss Harper Lee, you definitely know how to set a bar and set it high.

Sincerely,
Kellie Ann, who is still, by the way, a fan
chit-chat

my personal summer faves, 2015 edition

KellieAnn

Summer is not my favorite season.  Heat, sand, water, mosquitos, kid boredom…all things that make this season low on my list.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have some favorite products that make these months a bit more bearable for all of us non-summer types.

Udder Butter Lotion

I stumbled upon this product by accident last fall, and let me tell you, it has done wonders for all those little rough parts of the body, my heels especially.  Unlike other “udder” products that are out there, this one is still marketed towards  animal use.  My tube actually states that if you have problems or questions about the product and its effects to contact your veterinarian.  Seriously.  And, like I said, I bought mine last November, and I use it several times a week on my heels, knees, and elbows, and I still have a lot left, so a little goes a long way.

Yeti brand tumblers and koozies

My husband got me one of each of these, and I have been amazed at how cold they keep my drinks.  I spend a lot of time at the ballpark in the summer, and these are just simply the best.  My drinks have stayed icy cold sitting in the hot sun for hours.  At home, the tumbler will actually still have ice floating around inside at the end of the day.  These are pricey, but they will last forever with a little TLC and are worth every penny.

La Croix flavored sparkling water

Now that you have your Yeti products, you need something refreshing to put in them!  I have loved the La Croix canned waters for years.  You can actually get them a lot cheaper at a place like Costco.  My Costco has a 24 variety pack which includes lime, lemon, and grapefruit (my favorite) for about $8.  I also really enjoy the coconut, which I can sometimes find at Publix and other grocery stores.  No calories, no artificial sweetners…just yummy and a great alternative to soda.

Sally Hansen Miracle Gel polish and top coat

I discovered this polish a few months back, and in my opinion, it’s the best gel-type polish out there.  The labels boast that a manicure will last two weeks, but I think that’s a bit ambitious.  I can get it to last about a five days to a week usually.  Still, for a drug store product that you do yourself, that’s pretty good.  I also own the Sally Hansen system with the LED light, and it’s okay, but this Miracle Gel stuff works without the light, so it takes far less time.  Make sure to do two coats of color and two coats of top coat for best results, allowing each coat to dry for about a minute or so between.  There are literally boatloads of colors available.  I’ve found them at Wal-Mart for less than $8 a bottle.

Yankee Candle in Sunflower scent

Truth be told, I love all Yankee Candle products.  The sunflower scent is one of my favorites, and it’s bright yellow color will perk up any room.

Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea fragrance

This scent is hard to find in stores, so I am thrilled to provide this Amazon link for you.  This is a great scent for summer…light and airy.  I wear this a lot during the spring and summer, and I’m often complimented on its subtle scent.

Venus Olay razor

What is summer without a decent razor?  My daughter actually recommended this to me, and I’ve been very glad she did. It provides a good, close shave in those hard-to-get-to areas, and the Olay moisturizer bar works really well. I found a really good deal at one point at Costco for a set with a razor and about 12 refill cartridges, but currently mine is not carrying this anymore.  I often see good coupons for these, and if paired with a store sale, you can probably stock up fairly inexpensively.

I’d love to hear if you try any of these products and what you thought about them.  What are some of your summer favorites?

 

***The above recommendations come from my own opinions based on real experiences with the products.  I was not compensated for this post.  In fact, these companies have absolutely no idea who I am.***