I have been trying some new smoothie recipes, and so far my assessment is that there are a LOT of gross smoothie recipes. This morning Rob took a taste and said, “This is so not fair.” I drank mine but I felt I was suffering significantly for my health and should therefore get at LEAST double credit in terms of long life and disease prevention. For example, I like broccoli, so I’m not unreasonable: I ask only for regular health/nutrition credits for that. But if I eat something I hate, ONLY because it’s good for me, I want EXTRA credits. Plus additional credit for not wasting food, when I attempt a recipe that is not successful but I eat it anyway because it’s nutritious even though it’s yucky.

********

Do you have recommendations for horror novels written by women? I’m getting kind of tired of some of the themes I’m seeing again and again and again (oh, we’ve established it’s a BAD person/monster raping and torturing women, so that makes it okay to make the scene REALLY LONG AND DETAILED), and I wondered what it might be like to read some horror not written by a man, and if that might change the themes a bit.

I’ve read several by Shirley Jackson. I tried Anne Rice quite awhile ago but it didn’t click for me. Other recommendations? Preferably recent rather than, for example, Mary Shelley; even Shirley Jackson wasn’t as modern as I’d prefer. I’m thinking more along the lines of authors who are currently writing, less along the lines of early examples of the emerging horror genre. Older books tend to have plots that were new and scary at the time, but since then have been so often re-done that they can now seem tame or obvious. Basically I want Stephen King, but a woman. Stephanie Queen.

I watched the movie Her, about which Paul said, “I was interested when I heard about it—but as soon as I heard the title, I knew I wouldn’t like it.” I felt similarly: I found the concept (man falls in love with computer operating system) interesting, but the title off-putting. I plowed through the off-put feelings: just as Paul didn’t want to be someone who would watch a movie called Her, I didn’t want to be someone who would not-see a movie based on the title. Plenty of titles are chosen for plenty of reasons.

Well. I liked the concept and was very interested to see how they’d deal with it. I thought they did a good job making things look near-future-y. But I didn’t like either of the two leads, and it’s hard to root for a couple when you don’t like either one of them, or the way they talk, or the things they say, and when you would pay cash money not to hear their sex-talk. I’m still glad I saw it, though. I would like to see it again with different actors and a different script.

I watched This is 40, which is a movie I didn’t think I’d like. It seemed to fall into the category of “Movies where I love everyone in it but, you know, I really have reached my lifetime limit of seeing people sitting on the toilet, and while I recognize that many people experience acute discomfort as hilarity, I don’t experience it that way MYSELF.” (See also: Bridesmaids.) And it IS that kind of movie, and yet I liked it anyway. It’s basically Bridesmaids, but when they’re 40 and married and parenting, rather than when they’re dating and getting engaged. So there’s a lot of swearing, a lot of nudity, a lot of raunchiness, a lot of bathroom stuff, a lot of behavior and arguments of the sort I don’t like and can’t identify with at all, and yet I DID like it and I DID laugh. But I’m not really recommending it, because it’s exactly the kind of thing I usually don’t like, so maybe I was in a weird mood.

Megan Fox is in it, and I found I really, really liked her, which surprised me because all my previous impressions of her (photos of her being snarly-provocative when I’ve Googled “fox”) have been so negative. She was FUNNY.

I read Stephen King’s book Bag of Bones, which I apparently missed when it came out in 1998. I think it’s because that was around the time I was pregnant with my firstborn, and I was not in any mood for scary stories.

Anyway, after 50 pages (my usual cut-off), I still didn’t like the book. I persevered and finished it anyway, because it was the last book in my library pile. I wish I hadn’t. I felt like it took a lot of effort to force this book to happen, which, considering the level of author intrusion and the theme of writer’s block, maybe it DID. The Big Reveal seemed like it was only a big deal because of the build-up: if we’d heard that part of the story first, I think all we would have thought is, “Well, why did it lead to a big issue THIS time and not any of the OTHER millions of times that sort of thing has happened?” Also, the type of revenge didn’t make sense, considering the parties who were most injured by it.

I was particularly grossed out by the storyline between the 40-year-old male narrator and the 21-year-old girl he first thinks is 14. “Oh, Stephen!,” she says, “Er, I mean Mike! PLEASE sleep with me! I know you’re a famous novelist and super-rich, but that has NOTHING to do with it! Good thing your wife and baby died so WE can be together now and you don’t even have to feel guilty about it! I’m like her, but way younger and hotter and more adoring—AND my baby is the same age yours would have been, so you can pretend!” And he’s so TORN because he’s so NOBLE, but it really is LOVE and he’d feel the EXACT SAME WAY and be JUST as helpful to her if she weren’t young and hot and beautiful and so very young. Really! He would! Or probably he would, if he knew her AT ALL beyond how she looks and dances and keeps kissing him and pressing her pert firm young….well, anyway, he IS noble! And it is TOTALLY her choice! TOTALLY! HE would NEVER have made a move, but SHE kept insisting! And it’s okay because first he had his wife die! And he let it be a brief and merciful death!

Oh hi, quick question. You know how Target has those things where it’s like “buy 4 of something, get a gift card”? Can you also use coupons for those things, or not? I ask because I bought four of something and got a gift card, but the reason I did it is that I ALSO had four manufacturer’s coupons, which brought the price down to awesome. But when I got home, I could see the coupons recorded on the receipt, and yet they didn’t change the price of the items. I’m hoping to avoid explaining this to a customer service clerk (I had some trouble figuring it out myself), and/or embarrassing myself by presenting the situation to a clerk and learning that it’s clearly stated coupons can’t be used, by finding out from YOU what the situation is.

Four-packs of Kleenex: $5.99 each. Deal: buy four 4-packs, get a $10 gift card. Also: the 4-packs had $1.50-off coupons on them. So the total should be ($5.99-$1.50) x 4 plus ($10 gift card – free $10 gift card) = $17.96. But instead it’s $5.99 x 4 plus ($10 gift card – free $10 gift card) = $23.96. But I can SEE the coupons. They just don’t seem to COUNT.

I mentioned in a previous post that I’d watched Le Déclin de L’Empire Américain (the one where basically eight people talk about sex) and was planning to watch the sequel Les Invasions Barbares. Which I did. A few minutes into it, I was thinking an actor looked very familiar—and it wasn’t one of the original cast, so I thought I must have seen him in something else. Then the plot took a familiar turn, too, and I realized I’d seen this movie already! Separately! Not realizing it was a sequel! Anyway, I’d liked it the first time and was glad to watch it again, and I liked it even better after seeing the first movie.

It’s a movie about a group of friends gathering around a friend who is dying, and also about the lengths the dying friend’s child goes to in order to make his dad comfortable. There’s a lot of good crying to be had. Plus, it’s fun to get updates on the other characters’ lives nearly 20 years later.

Then I watched The Grand Budapest Hotel, and I liked a lot. Funny and charming and also sad. I tried to watch it while eating lunch, but couldn’t: there’s so much visual stuff in a Wes Anderson movie, it’s like watching a movie with subtitles.

Then I watched Last Chance Harvey, which was on my “romance over 40” list. I always love Emma Thompson, but I didn’t like the movie. I’m going to discuss the plot here, so there will be spoilers, but I’m not sure there is anything actually spoilerish about them: the full story arc is clear from the beginning, just waiting for the details to be filled in. But if you’re planning to watch it, you can skip the rest of the post: I don’t say anything else after talking about the movie.

It started with me misunderstanding something. At the beginning of the movie, we’re being introduced to the two main characters: Emma Thompson’s Kate, and Dustin Hoffman’s Harvey. Kate comes into a house saying, “Hello, it’s your daughter!” and then we see Harvey playing his piano. So I thought Kate was Harvey’s daughter. The ages make sense: Emma Thompson was about 47, and Dustin Hoffman was about 70. BUT NO. NO, she is not his daughter: they are going to have a romance. We were just switching from “seeing Kate’s life” to “seeing Harvey’s life.”

Then, Harvey is a guy with problems. He can be charming, but it feels like a cover after we see how he behaves in several situations: he is not someone I would set up even with someone his age, such as Kate’s mother. When he gets Kate to talk to him in a bar, he’s aggressive in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable. When she politely says no to his advances, he makes a sound that makes me want to hit him. He doesn’t listen to her saying no to him, and he persists. She says a polite and well-explained no to his suggestion that they have lunch together, so he sits at a table next to hers, orders lunch, and then says “See, we’re having lunch together”: he forces her to do what she said she did not want to do. He overshares about his life, in order to prove to her that his day was worse than hers (“You think YOUR day was bad?”), and never does ask her about why her day was bad. My instincts were going “Wheep, wheep, get out of there, Kate!,” but this was supposed to be them hitting it off. Then he follows her and won’t leave her alone; again, I was hearing sirens and seeing red lights, but we were supposed to be seeing successful romance beginning. I was seeing a desperate creepy guy trying to rebuild his self-esteem with a younger woman because he was feeling old and rejected and emasculated by other events in his life.

Soon he’s much less creepy and I started to accept some of the romance (at least they briefly REFERRED to the age difference instead of pretending it didn’t exist), but then his less-creepy self didn’t make sense with what we’d seen of him earlier. I still felt like he was a man invested in the chase: he MUST overcome her objections, he will pursue her like a salesman until he WINS, because THIS IS ALL HE HAS and he can’t suffer another crushing blow.

He buys her a dress, which had a certain element of potential charm but I felt like she should not have let him choose it or buy it for her. Not just because it was weird, but because it didn’t seem to fit with her character: she would buy her own dress, not stand there like a doll while a man dressed her and then took out his wallet. And it felt like it was filling a slot labeled “Romantic Movie Scene.”

Through all this, Emma Thompson is lovely, and I loved her and wanted a better guy for her. Dustin Hoffman ends up being appealing to a certain extent, too—but again, it doesn’t fit with what we saw of him earlier. It seems like his earlier conversation with his ex-wife about why they married/split (he was so fun / but then he became a complete jerk all the time) is the exact way it’s going to go with Kate, too.

Finally, I NEVER find it charming or romantic or pleasing in any way when people make promises they are absolutely unable to make. “I promise he’ll be okay.” “Everything will be fine, I promise.” “I promise this relationship will work.” Those are not promises people can make in almost any circumstance; when they DO make such promises in circumstances where they can’t make them, I find it weird and off-putting, and it lowers my opinion of their intelligence and/or character. After just a few days of knowing each other, Harvey promises Kate that their relationship will be successful. We’re supposed to see faith and love; what I see is a salesman closing a deal.

I caught up with an old acquaintance and found out her high-school-aged sons, one a year older than Rob and one a year older, are both going to boarding school. This makes two boarding-school families in my circle.

It’s a nearly completely unfamiliar thing to me. That is, it isn’t that we sent Rob to public high school because we weighed the options and decided against boarding school; we never even CONSIDERED boarding school. If we HAD considered it, I would have assumed it wasn’t an option, either for the difficulty of getting accepted, or for the expense.

I was a little appalled when the first person in my circle mentioned her 8th grader (same grade as Rob at the time) was going to boarding school the next year. I am aware of the concept of Rob leaving home after high school, and that feels normal to me (albeit weird/upsetting in its own way) because it’s what everyone in my family did. Boarding school bumps that familiar plan four years earlier. Two conflicting reactions in me: “But he’s/I’m not READY for that!” and, glancing at argumentative teenager, “…Wait. We can…DO that?”

Also a third reaction, which showed me that I must think boarding school is superior in some way: a feeling of jealousy, like this meant their child was doing better than mine. Followed closely by that instant human self-protection mechanism of thinking critical thoughts about the path not taken. THOSE GRAPES ARE PROBABLY SOUR ANYWAY. WHO EVEN WANTS TO GO THERE.

The acquaintance I was recently talking to said the whole thing has been a huge shock to her system. Her husband and his family ALL went to boarding high schools: the only question is which one, with lots of opinions about which ones are Better than others. While her family is like mine, with no one even really noticing it as an option. So to her husband, it is totally normal to have their kids mostly out of the house as of age 13-14, and for her it is a shock that has her going to the couch right after work and staring into space until she thinks, “This isn’t good. I need to stop doing this.” And then stares into space some more.

I’ve wondered if we should try to get Rob into one. A lot of them have very good scholarships; my other acquaintance who has a daughter in boarding school says that school has free tuition for any student whose family makes less than $80,000/year. But it’s more that I’ve wondered if we SHOULD HAVE tried: it feels too late at this point, with Rob finishing his sophomore year. I wouldn’t want to switch him at this point unless things were bad for him at the public school, which they’re not.

Also, I read Malcolm Gladwell’s book David and Goliath, and there are some very interesting and reassuring sections about the non-superiority of things we consider tend to consider superior, such as small class sizes and hard-to-get-into colleges. It switched me completely around on the subject. It changed the way I think of my educational goals/hopes for my kids.

I had a similarly mindset-changing reaction to Jean Hanff Korelitz’s book Admission: it’s the novel that made me stop worrying that Rob is insufficiently Well-Rounded. I thought it was interesting to think of colleges having trends just like anyone else: for awhile the students they’re searching for are the well-rounded ones; then that trend passes off and they want the specialized/obsessive ones. First they want the highest possible test scores; then they’re saying test scores matter less than community involvement; then they’re seem to have forgotten about community involvement and they’re looking for leadership. Who knows what they’ll be looking for next? It was a little upsetting to think of all the parents forcing their children into unwanted extracurriculars because that was the right thing when THEY went to college, only to find out they’d inadvertently made their child a LESS desirable candidate for the current trends.

I panicked a bit about “Then how DO we know what to prepare them for??” until I finally came back to that many-times-reached conclusion that THIS is EXACTLY why we DON’T try to do that. We let them do their thing, and either it’s in fashion at the college or it isn’t, but at least they won’t have wasted time doing things they don’t want to do in order to make themselves WORSE candidates. If the college they wanted to go to doesn’t want them with their own abilities and interests and inclinations, it wouldn’t be a good fit anyway. It’s the same as finding friends, or romance: we don’t think “How do I make myself into the right sort of person for that other person?” Instead, we’re supposed to focus on finding the person who’s a good fit for us as we are, so we’ll work together naturally instead of by force.

(image from Amazon.com)

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin. I really liked it.

********

Here is something that bothers me: when the paperback edition of a book looks different than the hardcover book. I wish they’d match. I linked to the hardcover above because the hardcover feels like the book I read; the paperback feels like a stranger. I suppose there must be assorted good reasons why they don’t match them.

********

My hair has reached the length where I hate it unless it’s up—but I do really like it when it’s up. It feels/looks tidy and styled, and yet I don’t have to blow-dry it or maintain a haircut or anything, and it takes me less than 10 minutes from wet-hair-in-a-towel to totally done (4 minutes for a twist and plain side-bun, more like 10 for a French braid and braided side-bun). It feels casual enough to wear with jeans and a hoodie, but also works for dressy occasions. I like how it stays in place and out of my face. I like how it shows off earrings.

French braid with braided side-bun

But I really hate it when it’s down. It’s not particularly pretty; it doesn’t look luxurious or sexy, and Paul is not a long-hair-preferring type of guy. It makes me feel aging and frumpy, and I feel like it emphasizes my double chin. It gets in my way. If I don’t braid it at night, it gets pulled every time I roll over. I hate washing it. I hate folding it into the towel. I hate brushing it. I hate the long loose hairs all over the house.

********

Paul was away for a long weekend, and it was weird. It’s strange how much temporary solo parenting differs from duo parenting. We’ve both found that while the job is harder, in the short term we feel more relaxed and happy. I think it’s because: (1) it’s emergency mode: it’s temporary and everything’s weird and it seems fully justified to get take-out food and not worry about housework; (2) resentment levels completely disappear: if I’m busy and Paul’s loafing around, I resent it; or if Paul’s busy and I’m loafing around, I feel guilty or wonder if he’s resenting it; but if I’m busy/loafing and Paul’s not HERE, nothing registers on that scale. Anyway, we had a nice time AND we were glad to have him back.

Yesterday I was in the school office signing in on my way to the volunteer thing I do there, and the two secretaries were trying to figure out the staff situation for the day. Some teachers had known they would be out and so substitutes had already been lined up; but several other teachers were unexpectedly out. “This is going to be rough,” one secretary said to the other. Then her eyes rested speculatively on me. “Mrs. Thistle,” she said. “What’s your schedule like today?”

This doesn’t end with me being a spontaneous substitute for the day: it turns out there are a few little details that need to be taken care of before you can be unsupervised in a classroom with other people’s children, such as criminal background checks, fingerprinting, resumés that aren’t 18 years old. But it put the idea into my mind.

It satisfies several of my current job-based needs, all of which have proved difficult to fulfill with any other kind of job:

1. It can’t be during the summer
2. It has to be during the school day
3. It has to allow for me to be out when my littler kids are sick

The pay is okay. My fellow volunteer said the last time she checked, it was $70/day. That’s about $10/hour.

The qualifications are easy: you can’t be a criminal. Check!

This leaves the last issue: Would I hate it? Paul sighs when I ask this, because he knows I know as well as he does that the ONLY way to answer that question is to try it and see. But I seem to think that if I keep wringing my hands and fretting, the answer will come to me without having to try it.

I can’t even really ask other people about it, because one person’s ideal is another person’s hell. My mom, who was a teacher, would hate subbing or assisting: she wants her OWN classroom and her OWN rules and her OWN lesson plans. Whereas the idea of making lesson plans makes me shudder, and I’m not good at being consistent or sustaining interest: the first week of school, I’d be a GREAT teacher. After that, it would be worksheets and ennui.

Also, people differ spectacularly on preferred age groups. Just as some parents love newborns and suffer toddlers, and others are exactly the opposite, some substitutes find their niche with kindergartners and some with high schoolers, shuddering at the thought of the other.

So any advice I might solicit would be misleading and/or useless. Really, the ONLY way to know is to apply for the job, check allll the boxes for grade-level availability, and try it.

Instead, I wanted to ask you about it. Because the thing is, even if the advice isn’t helpful in one sense (“Ug, I hated it, it was the worst job ever” doesn’t tell me if I’ll hate it, any more than “Middle school is the BEST age!” tells me that I should choose middle school), it’s helpful in another sense: I find a GROUP opinion ends up giving me a fairly good picture of what something is like. If someone says, “I hated middle school subbing: all you do is hand out worksheets; I like elementary school, where you get to do the lesson plans,” then I will think, “Hm, I might prefer middle school.” If someone says, “I hated subbing: at first it’s fun to sit and read a book, but the hours go by so slowly,” I might think, “Hm, that does sound non-ideal.” If someone says, “I hate the way I don’t know until 8:00 a.m. if I’m working that day,” then I know more about how the process works.

Rob would like to try a Stephen King book, and has asked me to select one. I am very enthusiastic about this task, but also nervous: I didn’t read the books with a 16-year-old in mind, so it’s hard to pick. I’d like him exposed to the RIGHT kind of horror and depravity.

He thinks he’d prefer non-monster horror to monster horror.

The two I’ve read several times and think of as favorites are The Stand and The Green Mile. But I liked a LOT of others.

I love “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption”, but our library only has it in a collection with the one about the teenage boy who likes to kill things, and I’d prefer not to introduce that. He might like The Bachman Books, but I’m remembering an upsetting school-shooting story; maybe that bothers me as a parent more than it would bother him as a student, but again, I don’t want to introduce the theme.

The ones I never want to read again were the ones like the one with the cop who went insane. Or Lisey’s Story, which I couldn’t even get more than 50 pages into because it seemed so extremely dumb and had so many of those italicized nonsense asides.

Under the Dome was kind of cool and thought-provoking, but it had one of those powerful-person-going-insane-and-manipulating-the-populace themes and those are not my favorites. (Needful Things also has that theme.) I get sick of hearing the crazy person repeat themselves over and over.

He says he might like to start with short stories, but some of those are more disturbing even than the long books. On the other hand, it might give him a good Stephen King sampler: some monsters, some creepy stuff, some thinky stuff. But short story collections are even harder to remember which ones are which.

What do you think? Have you read some of these more recently than I have? Which are your favorites—and/or, which seem like a good one to start with?

One of Elizabeth’s friends got her first period. I don’t think Elizabeth knows; I heard it from the friend’s mother. This reminds me to review the basics of such things with Elizabeth; I’m trying to remember to do it every 6 months to a year. But she’s so RESISTANT to it! She HATES talking about it! Well, she has a book that covers it. She may be the sort who’d prefer to look up her own information. And maybe she won’t have to worry about it for a few more years, anyway. I hope. (She is 9.) (Her friend is 10.) (I was 12.)

I should also get her Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret, but maybe I’ll re-read it first. I remember that book being part of the reason I wasn’t very freaked when I got my own first period, but I don’t remember how much actual information there was. And don’t they still use BELTS or something in that book? Clipping pads to something? I remember being mystified even at the time.

I didn’t tell my mom when I got my first period; did you tell yours? She had to ask me (and then I did admit it). I wasn’t keeping it a secret, exactly, but I remember not really knowing how to casually bring it up. “Oh, by the way.”

Considering how free and joyful I used to feel when I could go grocery shopping without a child, I’m surprised to find things different now. It’s not really that I want to shop with a child again, but there are two things I miss about it:

1. The feeling of doubled productivity: taking care of a child AND getting shopping done. Both!

2. The company.

But it was that same doubled productivity I miss that used to lead to that harried, crazy, burdened, overwhelmed feeling; I do remember that. And after shopping today and hearing all the “Evelyn! NO! Evelyn! Stop that right now!” (Evelyn: *LOUD WHINY CRYING*) around me, it’s hard to believe I truly feel envious of the company, and it’s more likely that I don’t. And when I DO go shopping with a child, it doesn’t take long for me to say things like “Can you please let Mommy concentrate on this shampoo decision for 10 seconds?”

But I don’t feel free and joyful anymore when I go without a child, either. It’s like when I stop being sick and I think I’ll forever appreciate how good Not Sick feels, but then three days later that’s all done with and it’s back to normal and I don’t even notice feeling well. I’m so used to shopping without children, I’ve lost that intense appreciation for it.

And in fact, sometimes I feel a little inexplicable panic, or existential despair, or inexplicable existential panicky despair. What are we all doing here, with our carts of things, deciding between Pantene and Dove, listening to music made ridiculous by context (“Straight up now tell me do you really wanna love! me! forever!” as all of us non-Paula-Abduls study the laundry detergent choices), someone else’s child whining in the background like a ringing telephone I don’t have to answer, the child’s parent audibly about to lose it from the public embarrassment and frustration, people in matching outfits there to help us choose items and pay for them? What are we DOING here? What IS this? EVERYTHING IS TRAGIC AND SCARY. A child in my cart helped keep my mind off all that, I think.

********

I watched another movie with older people (40s, it looked like to me) being attracted to each other. It was called Le Declin de L’Empire Americain (The Decline of the American Empire), and I enjoyed finding I remembered more high school French than I’d thought. But the movie felt kind of plotless, and the fashions and hair were so extremely 1980s. Isn’t it funny how hard it can be to tell if someone from another time period is good-looking or not?

For 40% of the movie, we watch the four women talk to each other about sex while they seriously spend the entire day exercising and attending to their appearance. For 40% of the movie, we watch the four men talk to each other about sex while they get dinner ready. For 10% of the movie, we see little flashbacks/asides that tell us more of the story than is being talked about. For 10% of the movie, we see all eight people having dinner together.

There is nudity just all over the place, but done in an interestingly frank way, so that it doesn’t even seem sexy, just sort of ordinary. Everyone is SO sexually adventurous, it was a little depressing: it made me feel inexperienced, while simultaneously making the more adventurous way of life unappealing. The way some of the men are so casual about cheating on their wives made me feel nervous and upset. And there’s a part where they say “And what’s with women always wanting to take classes?,” which made me feel red-faced and like I wanted to put the course catalog in the recycling—but also indignant, like “Yeah, your trips to the happy-ending massage parlors are a MUCH better way to spend time! Jerk!”

So you’d think I was not recommending the movie, and actually I’m not (I’m not ANTI-recommending it either, but I am not pushing you to see it)—but on the other hand, when I saw on Wikipedia that there was a sequel, I immediately added it to my list, so that tells another story.