Wanted: A Book Without a Bite

The Cable Guy bought me a Kindle for Valentine's Day two years ago. I have finished maybe five books in that time, two of them were not mindless dribble. It's possible I only remember the plot to one. Considering I come from a family of avid readers and tend to read rather quickly (although Vanity Fair has taken me fooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeevvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr and I'm still not finished), this is rather unusual for me.

If it has words and a title, I'll read it. Except poetry.  I don't do poetry. Or Shel Silverstein, which I guess is technically poetry. Or Hemingway. That's for a later post, one written after a glass or two or five of wine (that's the only way to do Hemingway). I don't believe in censorship or burning books or anything that limits a person's right to read whatever they want. In fact, if you tell me I shouldn't read something, it's most likely the next thing I have on my bedside table. Reading is also my biggest inspiration when it comes to writing. Often an article or even a blog post from someone else will spark something in me. It's definitely true about the recipes I make.

The thing is, I can't find anything worth reading. Every time I turn around, there's another vampire book or werewolf book or half vampire-half werewolf book. What's wrong with people?! Totally fleshy, living, breathing with a normal amount of hair people?! It's pretty hard to relate to a character that heals instantaneously when I'm still sporting a chicken pox scar from twenty years ago.

Now, I get the escapism aspect of fiction, I really do. My genres of choice are fantasy and science fiction (*Nerd Alert* There may or may not be a rather extensive collection of dragon paraphernalia in our garage, as well as a vast knowledge of Star Trek trivia in my head). You don't get any further from reality than that, yet the best writers still manage to create a world that has something the reader can identify with.

My biggest frustration is the absolute lack of strong female characters, which is only compounded by the overabundance of aloof uninterested males. I would rather a female lead forego a relationship than have to read another conversation featuring what appears to be a caveman. I also love love love when strength is portrayed as a man's inability to stop a woman from doing something incredibly stupid. Believe me, I'm as bullheaded as they come. Rarely do I give an inch when it comes to anything, but do I honestly believe The Cable Guy would just let me walk out a door to confront the coming apocalypse? Yeah, that's a big fat no.

So, I guess I'll stick with rereading the classics. Scarlett and Jo never disappoint. Or if anyone has a suggestion that doesn't include adolescent undead, I'm all ears.

New and Improved

Husband's grandfather passed away last week. It was easily one of the hardest things we've dealt with in our young marriage. It's hard to come up with something to say to someone you love more than your right foot when they're hurting so badly. I ended up not saying much, but we have done a lot of shopping lately. Even men need retail therapy.

Along with losing Poppa, we've also made some changes around the apartment, namely in our spare bedroom. I have started stalking become obsessed with Jen at iheartorganizing. Gotten lots of great ideas as well as some motivation for our work spaces.

When Husband came home from his trip, he also brought me back a computer that one of his best friends, The Teddy Bear, wasn't using anymore. I have sort of monopolized Husband's laptop since the unfortunate demise of my beloved MacBook, so he didn't waste any time getting it all set for me to use. Now that we each had our own laptop, the living room coffee table was feeling a bit crowded and I was beginning to notice the beginnings of Internitis. It's a virus that causes you to ignore others whilst you wile away hours at a time on some type of Internet connecting device which ends up leaving you void of human contact and wondering when your spouse grew a gotee. So, I made a declaration: once the office was up and running, NO MORE ELECTRONICS IN THE LIVING ROOM. The exception being our cell phones since we don't have a home phone but even then, you better not be ignoring my rant about my day because you're too busying flinging canaries at those of a porcine nature. Oh and my Kindle, because that's actually mentally stimulating, which I need during Husband's Monday night soap opera aka WWE Raw.

Fast forward and now we each have our own work areas in what I like to refer to as "The Office." Husband has his space, complete with his "Don't Tread on Me" flag and I have mine, complete with, well white walls for now (it's only been a week give me a break).

Mandie likes the new office too.

As well as a new place to waste brain cells at communicate with all of you, I have finally put this page up on Facebook. I've wrestled with this for some time, not because I have issues with the site that will be single handedly responsible for the take down of human kind by space invading zombie vampires but because it felt like I wasn't significant enough to warrant a page on Facebook. But then I remembered that significance is my middle name and went ahead and did it (significance is not my middle name and for those of you about to name your child, remember there are people like me out in the world that will openly mock said child for whatever poor name choice you choose to make) . Be sure to check it out and let me know what you think.

Before I go, I just wanted to thank everyone for their support during my first Crazy Cooking Challenge. If you're interested to know what the winning entry was, here's the link. I got four votes, which means that someone other than the Paternal Unit liked what they read (Maternal Unit would've voted, but she has to share a computer with the world's stingiest computer partner). I appreciate so much that you take the time to visit my little internet abode. Warms my cold little heart. Ttfn!

A Little Knowledge Goes A Long Way (But A Lot Makes You A Nerd)

For those of you who have the unfortunate luck of not being a bosom friend (flash backs to 6th grade English and Anne of Avonlea), you should know I tend toward tenacious tendencies. Tenacity to the point of being a bit of a female bulldog (side note: Margaret Thatcher is one of my mom's favorite leading ladies and thinks I'm a lot like her; cheers momma!). For those of you who do know me, you're shaking your heads and returning to your game of Blast Pop or Brick Thumper or whatever it is you (un)cool people play on Facebook.

I recently decided that I would like to be shape other than oval and started running and crosstraining. Not new, uh news. Not new news. (I should have my literary license revoked) However, I don't just happen to build up my interest in exercise gradually, oh no, not this undomestic girl with WAYYYYYY too much time on her hands. No, by this stage in the game, I can tell you how many calories are in 89 grams of baby carrots (30), how you can track your position while running (honey, I know you bought my an iPod shuffle and it's pink and I love it but don't you want to buy me a Garmin watch so that I can know where I am when I drop dead from running in the Redding heat?? Don't ya??) and why Jillian Michaels is a beast (no G-rated words to describe at this time).

I've been to running websites, running stores and have even started to read running books (well I've looked at them but haven't actually put them on my Kindle yet. Baby steps). And this was all within the first week. I should probably be embarrassed...but I'm not. You would think that my sudden and intense interest in a physical pursuit that didn't involve Husband would have him alarmed. You would be wrong; you see, Husband didn't even bat an eye. This is his norm. When we first got married, it was culinary cooking (now it's just edible cooking). Then he brought home Mandie, my first dog ever, and I maybe (totally did) memorize everything on the internet pertaining to canines (side note: this really wasn't that difficult because this just so happens to be a resurrection of my previous dog obsession which had me reading EVERY book in the Charleston, West Virginia public library pertaining to them from the 1st to 4th gradea). After Mandie, I think I may have relaxed a little, but once we got Melodie and her stomach issues, I began to research raw feeding and fed my girls the way I thought nature intended. I research everything to death, from dog food (we're a grain free, kibble fed family for now) to my Kindle (no nasty finger prints on my screen please). My mind is a giant black hole of useless knowledge, only beneficial when Binky wants to know what the active ingredient in deodorant is (aluminum).

As useless as the stuff I know is, I firmly believe knowledge is power (and sexy. School girl outfit anyone?). What I have a hard time figuring out, is how people have the knowledge about something but then go and do something completely contrary to what they know. I think I ingrain so much of what I know into what I believe, that it's hard for me to separate the two and I just thought it was that way for everyone. Alas, that is not the case and until more people stop being so completely lazy about using that (waste of) space between their ears, I will gladly exercise (pun totally intended) my right to learn and educate myself in whatever capacity I choose.

Great (and Realistic) Expectations

I'm attempting to write this post with both girls between my legs napping. It's POURING down something that resembles hail. I had to turn my heater on. IN MAY. What the deuce?

I did, however, make it to the theater with my favorite coworker and her husband to see "Something Borrowed." Such a cute movie with some hysterical laugh out loud parts (John Krasinski is absolutely perfect and totally steals the show). It was about halfway thru that I realized the movie was based on a book that I was familiar with but haven't read. May have to mosey on over to Amazon to see if I can find it for my Kindle.

It was a chick flick and while sitting in the theater feeling my heart swell with hope and a lump in my throat when the hope was dashed, I realized how much my own marriage has shaped the way I think about other relationships, even fictional ones. On Tuesday, Husband and I will have two years of marriage under our belts. After the first six months of unrealistic expectations (who knew he didn't want to snuggle up on the couch after a ten hour day in 110 degree heat and watch "Singing in the Rain"??) and tears (to this day I haven't attempted fried potatoes again), we finally got into our flow. He doesn't expect me to do his laundry and I don't expect him to clean the hamster's cage. We do expect honesty (although I have to say I love him a little more when he eats something that has turned out badly) and forgiveness.

We trade off taking the girls out to go potty and I can't tell you how mushy my insides were the day I came home and Husband had washed all the blankets in the apartment and had wrapped Mandie up like a burrito in one while it was still warm. Biggest turn on EVER. There are those moments where I have wanted to stick his head in the oven and where I grate on his nerves. Thankfully, they are getting fewer and further between. We're not always madly deeply professing our love to each other, but I can safely say I have never felt unloved. We're not that couple who kiss and hold hands in public, but he never begrudges me a picture and shares his pop with me in the mall. His new favorite shirt says "Save a Life, Grope Your Wife" (mine has a garden gnome on the front and says "Hanging with my gnomies"; just saying...). As our time apart winds down, I'm looking forward to his killer scrambled eggs and sleeping with our legs tangled together again. Oh and sex (yeah I said it and look, I wasn't struck by lightning).

So happy anniversary Husband; I couldn't have done it without you.

Burrito a la Mandie