I Ain’t Superstitious

I don’t really think that a terrible fate will ensue if I say something jinxy. Still, if I say something jinxy, I will try to find some wood to knock on. If I find it, I’ll knock on it and say, “Knock on wood.” And if there’s not any real wood, I’ll knock on simulated wood and say, “Knock on simulated wood.” I might even, if the situation required it, knock on plastic and say, “Knock on plastic and pretend it’s wood.” Just in case.

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Changes

The combination of poor vision plus paranoia means that every tiny black thing I see looks like a mouse turd or a tick, until I get close enough to see what it really is (a piece of fuzz, a crumb, a spider, etc.). But not too close, because if I get too close, I can’t even focus on it!

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SITY: A Tragedy

On Saturday I walked down the driveway to pick up The New York Times newspaper that was waiting for me at the end of it. As I passed beneath the trees I noticed that there was a layer of greenish-brown slime on the driveway. It had rained overnight, and the caterpillar poop on the driveway had absorbed the water. The driveway was completely covered in this “fecal slime,” and it could not be avoided. I was wearing a nice pair of shoes, so I tried to walk carefully. Still, they were completely encrusted by the time I got to the newspaper and back.

On Sunday, I made the same walk. The slime had dried somewhat. It was now more of a paste. A fecal paste. By Monday, it had dried even more. It was now a fecal crud. It may have been my imagination, but it even seemed to smell like poop. This is what it looked like.

Fecal Crud. Ugh!

If that weren’t disgusting enough, every day when I’m unpacking the kids lunch bags I find a few caterpillar poops. The poops stick to their ice packs and swell up from the moisture. It’s gross.

But, believe it or not, we got lucky. We hardly saw any winter moth caterpillars. The hatch rate of the gypsy moth caterpillars seemed to be low. There are many unhatched and partially hatched egg masses on the trees. There were just so many egg masses on the trees (encrusting entire limbs, in some cases) that even a low hatch rate means thousands upon thousands of hungry caterpillars.

The rain may have played a part in knocking their numbers down. It certainly seemed to slow their progress. Now it is time for the caterpillars to pupate, but many of the caterpillars I’ve seen are dead or dying. It’s what we wanted, but it’s still a sad thing. The tree trunks are covered with their corpses. When the caterpillars die, some of them hang upside down, their bodies stretching under their own weight until they become desiccated. Some hang in a V-shape.

Dead Caterpillars

Masses of dead caterpillars are sad. But what makes this especially sad is that the damage is already done. The caterpillars didn’t die soon enough to spare the trees.

Damaged Trees

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A Rare Thing

Eggshells by Caitriona Lally

Grade: A-

I could tell from the first paragraph of Eggshells that author Caitriona Lally had a knack for wordplay and for making wonderful observations about everyday things. It’s what drew me to the book. It’s also what kept me reading during the occasional rough patch.

The main character of Eggshells is Vivian. She was abused as a child, and now she believes she is a changeling. She wanders the streets of Dublin, looking for a portal back to the fairy realm. Vivian has a sister, also named Vivian, who doesn’t want to have much contact with her. Friendless and clueless about how to make social connections, Vivian puts out an advertisement asking specifically for a friend named Penelope. And a Penelope answers!

That’s an interesting start to a novel but, as I mentioned, there are some rough patches along the way. Some of Vivian’s encounters with people are strange and not very believable. Vivian can be off-putting, and she spends a lot of time (too much, IMHO) just wandering around and making lists. But, if you can sympathize with Vivian’s desire to find magic, understand her yearning and her loneliness, then she’s endearing and worth following around the streets of Dublin, even if she doesn’t do much.

Another minor point that some reviewers complain about is that it’s never explained why Vivian’s sister is also named Vivian. Our Vivian deliberately avoids seeing, hearing, or thinking about things that upset her. That means a lot of details about Vivian’s and Penelope’s lives are kept from us. Remembering that Vivian is not entirely sane, an easy explanation for the sister’s name is that sister Vivian doesn’t actually exist. Perhaps there was an older sister who died in childhood, or maybe Vivian just always wanted a sibling and decided to make one up. There’s absolutely no evidence aside from Vivian’s state of mind to support my theory, because the sister appears in several scenes. Still, it makes sense that she’s an idealized, alternative persona that our Vivian has invented for herself. She represents the “normal” life that our Vivian thinks she ought to have had.

Along the way Vivian muses on a great many topics, often language-related, and these were my favorite parts of the book. Here is one example.

“mischief” should always be spelt with a lower case “m”–it seems more mischievous than its sensible big sister, upper case “M.” And “mumps” should never be capitalised, but “Measles,” its spottier cousin, should. “Rubella” works either way. We should be allowed to choose when to use lower and upper case letters; having to use a capital letter at the start of a sentence is like saying the firstborn son gets all the money, no matter how vile he is. Some words should be spelt entirely in capital letters: TORRENTIAL, BELLOWS, RIPPED, FLED, GLEEFUL.

If I were grading based purely on the story and characters, then I would give it a B+, meaning that I liked the book but not necessarily enough to read it again. I wanted to give credit to the author for her inventiveness, though, so I raised the grade to an A-. I feel like I could open this book to any page and find something that I’d enjoy reading. In fact, I tried doing exactly that. I opened the book to a random page, found something interesting, and was immediately drawn back in. That is a rare thing!

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Marshall Turns 8

Dear Marshall,

This year your birthday was so close to a graduation party, a father’s day party, and the July 4th weekend that we decided not to have a separate party for you. Instead we piggy-backed the celebration onto the father’s day party for your father’s side of the family, and onto July 4th weekend for my side of the family. We also gave you a present and some cake on your birthday. So, like Livia, you got three celebrations, which seemed only fair.

I ordered a big cake to bring to the Father’s Day party. You were supposed to go to that party while I took Livia to a separate birthday party. But then your father had to run out to take care of a work emergency, which totally changed our plans. You had to come with me and Livia to the birthday party, and then we had to pick up your cake and head over to Auntie’s house.

Well, that other birthday party was fun. There was a bouncy house. You really enjoyed that. But afterward, at the grocery store, your cake was not ready! Apparently the order never got printed, and there was no one there to decorate a cake for us. The store tried to make it up to use by giving use some free cakes and balloons. The cakes were not exactly what you wanted, and they didn’t have your name on them, but I didn’t mind having saved some cash, especially since it turned out that we didn’t need nearly as much cake as we had ordered. There were about a dozen fewer people at Auntie’s house than we had expected. That’s OK, though. I am trying to adapt to the Portuguese way, which is to always have way more food than you could possibly need.

At Auntie’s house you got to go in the swimming pool, have cake, and open presents. On your actual birthday, I gave you a big Pokemon card set. It was ridiculously expensive, but I figure that you only turn eight once. Plus, since I got your cakes for free, that pretty much paid for the gift. You loved your new cards.

The best part of your birthday celebration came later. I had topped your present, as well as the small one I got for Livia, with glow stick swords. The two of you decided that they were magic wands, and you started performing magic on Daddy. Marshall put a spell on Daddy that made it so Daddy could only say, “I am poopie!” This was just about the funniest thing ever. It had me in stitches. Then I suggested that he change the spell so that Daddy could only say, “I am EXTRA poopie!” That got me laughing so hard, I think I actually drooled. I took a little bit of video. Maybe you will get to see it later in life and laugh yourself into a drooling state, too.

Before I went to bed that night, I checked in on you. You were sleeping with the sword clasped in your hand, hugged close to your chest. You looked like an enchanted king with a magical sword. May all your birthdays be so enchanted!

Love,

Mom

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Thanks for That

I was sitting in my office one day when Livia came in and asked, “What does ‘f—‘ mean?”

I had recently made a promise to myself to be honest when the kids asked about swear words. But still, I attempted to evade the question. This was Livia, though, and Livia is persistent. My attempts at evasion failed. So I had no choice. I told her what it meant, in the most polite terms, and she seemed satisfied with my answer. No big deal.

But thanks, Faithful Reader, for whatever it was you did that exposed our children to the “F bomb!”

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Aimless & Pointless

Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan

Grade: C

I mentioned in a previous post that I didn’t like Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, but I didn’t say why. Sorry about that. It was months ago that I finished the book and returned it to the library, so my memory isn’t fresh, and I don’t have a copy of the book to use as a reference. This review will suffer for it. Sorry for that, too.

The book starts with a teenage musician (Nick) who is playing with his band at a nightclub. He sees his ex-girlfriend in the crowd, which upsets him, because he’s still heartbroken from being dumped. After his band finishes playing, Nick asks a girl he doesn’t know (Norah) to pretend to be his new girlfriend so that it will look to his ex as if he has moved on. Nick and Norah hit it off, and so begins an up-and-down romance that takes them all around the city, all night long.

There wasn’t much beyond that for plot, leaving me with the feeling that it was both aimless and pointless. But I’m not a member of the target audience (young adults), so I have to wonder if that was part of the problem. When you’re young, you do a lot of “hanging out,” which isn’t exactly a goal-oriented activity, so perhaps the story wouldn’t seem so aimless and pointless to young adults. And perhaps the incessant angst of the main characters would strike a chord with them, rather than reminding them of bad romance novels.

But, while I think young adults might like the book better, I wouldn’t recommend it for them either. There’s a lot of swearing and content of a sexual nature, not to mention alcohol abuse. On a related note, I’m still mad at Norah for leaving her drunk, unconscious friend in the hands of some guys she didn’t even know. It all worked out in the end, but every girl in the world needs to know that you just DON’T DO THAT!

But, to end on a positive note, I will say that Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist had its moments. Here is one of them:

We are the ones who take this thing called music and line it up with this thing called time. We are the ticking, we are the pulsing, we are underneath every part of this moment.

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What a Mess!

Total chaos in the kitchen!

Not caused by my cooking. No, blame the refrigerator. It has this problem where it freezes up inside and then water pools in the bottom and finally leaks onto the floor. Yesterday it peed on the floor again, and after we were done cursing and wringing out our wet socks, we decided to finally fix it properly. But fixing it meant thawing it, and thawing it meant emptying it. So there’s food and refrigerator shelves all over the place. We tried to save everything, but the thawing has taken so long that everything except what we were able to squeeze into our small “beer fridge” will probably have to be thrown away.

In a way it’s good, because we needed to declutter our fridge. A certain someone had stashed numerous half-empty jars of salsa in there. And a certain someone else was apparently hoarding ketchup and salad dressing packets. And as is the way of these things, this big mess led us to other hidden messes, which I am glad are now cleaned up.

I feel a little like Rain Man, though. I don’t handle this kind of disruption well. The kids don’t mind. I served them a fast-food dinner as a carpet picnic in my office, which they enjoyed. They didn’t object to a toast-only breakfast this morning.

When I suggested to my husband that it will be costly to replace everything, he scoffed. Then I did some simple math for him. He had to admit that the math was alarming, but then he said, “Your estimates are based on unopened, unused items that have not lost any value.” He has a point, but then again, we’re only going to buy unopened, unused items!

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Roses, Books, and Popsicles

I always try to get out to see the wild roses at this time of year. Today I finally had the chance. I took the kids with me to the nature trail at the library. We took care not to get too close to the edge of the trail (to avoid ticks and poison ivy) and to move at a brisk pace (to avoid mosquitoes). It’s no fun to be paranoid, but better safe than sorry. We couldn’t get close to the roses for most of the walk, but toward the end there was one giant bush that was safe to approach. They smelled wonderful. We also stopped at the memorial garden and smelled the peonies. Then we went into the library. We talked to the librarian about good books for a boy of Marshall’s age, and she suggested some good series for him. With an armful of books for Marshall and a Barbie movie for Livia, and a few books for Mommy, too, we left the library and hit the grocery store, where we bought some popsicles for the kids.

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Watching a Wasp on the Ground

She examines the landscape of rocks and dirt, and tosses aside what she does not like, until she finds just the right pieces. One by one she gathers her prizes, carries them back to a hole in the ground, and stuffs them inside. Then all around the plugged-up hole she grooms the ground, shaping and arranging, with an angry buzz at every stubborn rock and rough patch. Is she like me, irritated by how much labor lurks beneath the simplest tasks? Work complete, she flies away, and though I watched her from the beginning, even I cannot say where was the hole.

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