RIP Maurice Sendak

"Please don't go. We'll eat you up, we love you so."

One of my favorite authors. You will be missed.

What secret asian girl Is Reading

In Houston, summer starts somewhere around mid-March with dry, hot temperatures, much like opening a furnace door and stepping into it. In my mind, that means more time indoors...reading.  Fortunately, there's a LOT of new literary offerings out there that are worth your indoor time. I've never read any books by popular author Adriana Trigiani, but recently finished reading The Shoemaker's Wife. If you're a fan of historical fiction, like I am, but sometimes don't want to invest in one of those 1000 page doorstops, you might consider this one. It's about two Italian immigrants during the early 1900's who live in villages within walking distances of each other. For very different reasons, both end up going to America and, of course, end up together. Their individual journeys are painful, joyous, heart-breaking and redemptive. Together, their stories blend to portray a glimpse into the American immigration experience. The colorful Italian culture they bring with them is vibrant and its intensity adds to the mural of our collective portrait. I think you'll find it sweet and heart-warming.  

 Lifeboat by Charlotte Rogan is one of those novels that I immediately peg for a book club book - but only  for one of those book clubs that actually have vigorous, intelligent discussions about the book. I've yet to find one of those clubs but that's another story. Lifeboat takes place immediately following the catastrophic event that causes these 39 people to be in the boat in the first place. The experience is seen in flashback through the eyes of a privileged young woman shortly after the more famous Titanic sinking, without the societal safety of her rich husband and surrounded by people of all ages and classes. One by one (like in Yann Martel's Life of Pi) the survivors leave the boat, either by choice or, sometimes, by popular vote. Like many similar stories (the classic Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder - which I love - comes to mind), a group of disparate people find themselves together in unusual circumstances. What brought these particular people together and is it part of a greater plan or mere coincidence? Who is meant to survive and why is it that one person over another? Where does Fate figure in?  Does religion play a part?  I'll leave the room....discuss.

A Dog's Journey by W. Bruce Cameron is the true sequel to the very wonderful must-read for all animal lovers, A Dog's Purpose. It picks up directly at the end of the previous book. If you shy away from animal stories because of the inevitable heart-wrenching endings, fear not. Yes, there are bits of sadness, but anyone who has ever loved and cherished a family member who happens to be covered with fur knows, sadness is part of it. These are very different animal books, told in the unique voice of that spirit which inhabits the animal who chooses you: the special entity who will be your companion throughout your life, even if it is unable to remain in that body for more than 12-15 years. Miraculously, the entity is reborn in another body, with the same spirit, memories and love of your companion, willing to finish his/her life objective: protecting and loving you. As each character is "reborn," we see their loyalty shine through. Sometimes, there is distance to overcome - often, there is the obstacle of cruel or ignorant humans, but always, there is hope. Hope that love will lead you back together - to complete your journey together and in that way, make it through. I cried like a baby through both of these and if you know anything about what I've been through lately, you'll understand how much hope this gives me to one day find Sammy again. Sorry, no choice: READ IT.

This one appeals to the irreverent, snarky part of me. Seth Grahame-Smith, made famous for his retelling of books like, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies or more recently (and opening this summer as a movie), Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.  I have to tell you that this concept cracks me up. I love anything that takes an established iconic legend and turns it on its head in the face of stodgy purists. Muahahaha!! I LOVED Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. I know some people regard me differently when I say that, but it's true. I laughed out loud, and at some point, actually guffawed. Yes, I did. That's why I grabbed Unholy Night, and I was not disappointed. First off, even though Grahame-Smith is ballsy enough to take on a biblical mega-story like the Bethlehem birth story, it is not disrespectful in any way. If there's negative literary license taken, it's with Herod or Pontius Pilate. The main character is Balthazar, a hapless thief who's gained some notoriety as the "Antioch Ghost," who escapes from the executioners axe with two similarly down on their luck criminals, Mechior and Gaspar. On their way out, they steal some gold, some frankinscence and...um, what was the third thing? Oh yeah, myrrh for their injuries. During their escape from Herod's men, they happen upon a stable temporarily housing a carpenter and his wife nursing their newborn son. Hello. The atheist Balthazar, witnessing Herod's slaughter of babies, takes it upon himself to save the small family in the stable and get them to safety in Egypt. Is it the greatest story never told? In any case, it's a great jumping point for discussion, if your mind is open to it, and a new twist; something Mr. Grahame-Smith is getting quite good at.

Post Surgery

I was telling the vet why I think Mao is a Japanese Bobtail: long legs, very vocal, athletic...loves water. Actually, she has a love/hate relationship with water. The first time she saw it (after I rescued her) she watched me in the bath with a look of fascination and fear. She's sat on the edge of the tub ever since. Tristan says, "She watched you take a bath? 
It wasn't the water that scared her." I have no idea where that boy gets his sarcasm...

Update: Mao's surgery went great. She's up and moving around -- kinda traumatized, still a little scared....definitely pissed.

Voice Mail

On the phone with the lawn guy...Mao climbs up the back of my leg and bites me on the butt cheek! So the message I left on his voice mail was, "Hi, can you come by this week and mow my lawwwAAIGGGHHHHGGH!! MOTHER F...!!" (beep)

George

Oh myyyyyyyyy....

Rescue

When I saved Mao, who knew that a year later, 
she would save me.

Goodbye 2011

MAOIE Christmas

Maomao has been a great distraction for me these past few weeks. I'm trying hard to get her to love me and she's trying hard to remind me that she's still a little bit wild inside. I have to remember that Mao lost a companion too when Sam died. Recently, she's become more social with us, as if trying to own us but on her terms. One way she shows me is by attacking me whenever I whistle. She hates whistling but only bites me. I used to think she was mad that I whistle but now I think that when she rakes my foot with her claws or clamps onto my eyebrow with her teeth, she's simply trying to train ME. Christmas carols are especially offensive to her. It doesn't matter whether it's Michael Buble on my iTunes or Tony Bennett on television, she immediately comes over to me and sinks her still kitten-sharp teeth into my skin whenever she hears it. People say, "Why do you whistle if you know she's going to react like that?" I think I'm trying to see if it's just a fluke or if I am really interacting with her. All of my pets have always communicated with me in some way. Mao keeps me at paw's length but I can tell that as long as we are "talking," we have a bond. I think it's sort of cute, in a way.  I just have to keep the Neosporin handy, that's all. This Christmas, our house is dark and my heart is heavy. But inside, I'm trying my best to coax a small black cat out from the underneath and maybe...just maybe, into my empty arms. Merry Christmas.

Climbing Back Up

 

Overcoming grief is a little like climbing out of a very deep, dark hole. A part of you doesn't want to make the effort to ascend because it's an affirmation, an acceptance that everything has changed. It's like resurfacing, but missing one of your arms. I don't feel whole. Some might say that's the definition of depression. Whatever it is, I am definitely not in the holiday mood. This Christmas, there's a hole in my heart. And at least for now, I want to keep it that way. I miss you, Sammy.

Sam

Tristan's My Sam 

June 10, 1999 - November 28, 2011

RIP Sweet, beautiful Sam. Our hearts are broken into a million pieces. We will love you and hold you in our hearts forever. 

"It's not that I am lonely for you. I am mutilated. 
For you were a part of me."  ~ Author unknown.

Why I've Never Spanked My Child

 This story is great. It perfectly exemplifies why I've never spanked my child.

 "When I was about twenty years old, I met an old pastor's wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn't believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking--the first in his life. And she told him he would have to go outside and find a switch for her to hit him with. The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, 'Mama, I couldn't find a switch, but here's a rock you can throw at me.' All of the sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child's point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone. The mother took the boy onto her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. Because violence begins in the nursery--one can raise children into violence." 

From a peace prize acceptance speech given by Astrid Lindgren, author of Pippi Longstocking

Sickening

Too little, too late. Today, Ohio Governor John Kasich signed an executive order cracking down on the ownership of exotic animals like those killed in Zanesville this week. This story made me physically ill. Why  Terry Thompson was allowed to buy so many wild animals that he obviously could not afford to keep is bewildering and maddening. Ohio, like many other states, has some of the laxest regulations on the keeping of exotic animals as pets. While this horrifying incident has forced lawmakers into hotshotting legislation to keep this from happening again, it's obviously too late for the wild animals who were shot because they were being wild animals. Of course, blame should be placed on the idiot whose greed placed these creatures where they should never have been, but since he's conveniently dead too, then the onus should be on lawmakers whose job it is to protect us from our own stupidity. When I saw the pictures of these beautiful creatures, dead and stacked up on the lawn like bags of mulch, I seriously wanted to throw up. And even though experts from the Columbus Zoo and the a statement from the Humane Society of the U.S. assured us that shooting to kill was the proper course of action, given the lack of daylight and the frightened state of the animals, in order to protect humans, I was still not comforted. How could this have happened? Of course, had it occurred here in Texas, residents would have interpreted warnings of exotic animals on the loose as a call to arms and grandmothers and children would have joined in on some "good huntin'." Sometimes I am truly ashamed of my own species. It's no wonder the stories of bear attacks, mountain lion maulings and shark bites have increased in frequency in the news lately. Maybe it's God or Nature, or whoever you believe in, trying to tell us to leave the animals where they are and quit destroying them and their homes. I am sickened by what humans have done to other animals (yes, we are animals too) just because we CAN. There's no reason anymore for having circuses and zoos either. I don't need to go see a panther or an elephant in person to know that one exists. We have a new thing called "the internet" where you can see videos and pictures in high definition color of these creatures where they should be: in the wild. Seeing one chained up in a small enclosure decorated to look like the wild environment they belong in does not fool me into thinking I've seen one in the wild. Leave the animals were they belong and quit bothering them. Greed and ignorance will destroy creatures we are supposed to share this planet with, not manipulate for profit. I hope this nightmare strangles all businesses that profit from the existence of exotic animals, including circuses and some zoos. And don't even get me started on idiots who hunt for entertainment who I believe should meet their adversaries on equal grounds. Bear hunting may not be so much "fun" if the hunter were enclosed with the 7-foot tall grizzly with 8-inch daggers on his paws. THAT, I'd pay to see.

Black is the New Black

What Secret Asian Girl is (Finally) Reading: The Help

After two attempts, and threatened by a 400+ customer waiting list, I finally checked out The Help by Katherine Stockett,...and read it. No reason not to, other than being too busy. Once I got into it, it only took me a few days. No surprise that I really liked it. It's not the best historical fiction novel I've ever read, but it was easily read and emotional without being weepy. I did cry during the movie, which closely followed the book, only leaving out a few side stories. I love the plight of the underdog and, with a few exceptions, there's no more trod upon than the African-American woman, especially pre-1970. This is a story about strong women, both black and white, who had the courage to go against the tide, fearing not only the wrath of their fellow citizens but also the disdain of their peers. Although the heroism of this story is often aimed at Aibileen, the nose-to-the-grindstone maid who found strength in just taking one step forward each day after the death of her son, or Minnie, the smart-mouthed maid who struggled with knowing when to stop talking back or Skeeter, the reluctant Southern belle who saw injustice and dared to speak of it, I saw the most courage elsewhere. The bravest character, to me, was Celia Foote, a woman who, unlike the others, didn't enjoy the comfort of fitting in anywhere, but who continued to stand at the door of the party hoping to be invited in. While the others found sympathy in their friends or at home, Celia stood alone in her hooker clothes and fake boobs, not really sure why she was shunned. In the end, Celia became a stronger woman while losing the least. I closed the last page on this book wondering what happened to Skeeter and the others as the 1960's ended. The rest of the world changed but, as so often happens, not for those whose lives might be affected most. I'm also surprised at how white people have embraced this book, since it paints a not-so-flattering picture of how some attitudes were - and, in my opinion, continue to be. As a woman living in the South, I still see women who won't change their hairstyle without the expressed permission of their husband, or who decline lunch invitations because they have to rush home to fix a meal for their spouse. I'm curious about those women, and why they devalue themselves or need permission from someone else to live their lives. I can't decide if I'm more a Skeeter, who is unafraid to write what I think or a Minnie who speaks before thinking. Probably a combination of both. The fact that both these women can even be thought of as combined is a testament to how far we've come...and how far we have yet to go. I'd like to think I share both but I will tell you this: I have never burned my chicken.

Pure Fantasy