Eclipse

Ok, I've jumped on the Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse bandwagon. It was tough going at first. I didn't think Stephenie Meyer's first couple of books and plot pacing was going to hold me. But, at the end of Twilight, she threw in some exciting sci-fi fantasy action (yeah, a girl can like that stuff, too) and started New Moon with the same kind of excitement and danger. (Clever Stephenie to put the first chapter of the next book at the end of Twilight, I might not have kept going.) But Stephenie's writing has definitely gotten better, and I think Eclipse is when she finally got a good mix of high level excitement and low level description. She threw in a little mystery, too. I can tell she really has matured at the plot pacing in this third book.

I just still can't believe Bella is in love with Edward. I couldn't feel it in the first book, and he left in the second one. I've decided I'm not a passionate romantic, and I don't think relationships can last on that passion. Edward's a gentleman, blah, blah and he's protective, blah, blah, but their relationship is too intense and I don't see them just having fun. (Ok, and I know the fans are going to say, but when are they going to have fun, they just keep getting tangled in all this danger?)

You know what I'm going to say, but I have to say it. Jacob is the better boy for her. Edward, yes, protective, but he orders her around. And she doesn't like it, but she gives him excuses for his behavior. Hmmmm...sounds like a controlling relationship to me. I don't ever feel that she's relaxed and comfortable with him. Her dad hates him, so that makes them tense, she could be attacked by Victoria anytime, so that makes them tense. She's exhausted when he's laying in bed with her and she's either trying very hard to stay awake, or falls exhausted to sleep. Even Edward's family embarrasses her with making a big deal out of everything and being flamboyant and dressy and she's not that kind of girl. I feel totally stressed when reading about her and Edward and their interaction. It just does not feel like something that any girl like Bella would stick around with if it kept being that intense.

Jacob and Bella hang out doing things. They work on the bikes, they walk to the beach, they ride the bikes. They laugh and go to a movie. They are playful, friendly, and sweet. And they don't need to do a ton of cuddling and kissing just yet. He pulls her together when Edward leaves her, and to me, that should count for a lot more. Because Jacob is there for her and will continue to be there for her. That's the impression I get. I kept hoping Jacob would imprint on her, but I knew he wouldn't.

And maybe that's just indicative of my own relationship. My husband was my friend, before I realized it could be passionate, too. He was a friend through all the different guys I dated before I figured out that he was the one. If I had been Bella and finally realized that I was in love with Jacob, I would have had to tell Edward I was sorry, but it wasn't going to work anymore.

So maybe the teenagers all like the passion and how Edward can supress his need to be with her, because he's "so in love," but me, being a thirty something wife and mother of two children, maybe I appreciate that "best friend" more because to me that connection is worth more than a thousand passions. The "best friend" under the passions is what keeps you giggling, feeling young and silly and playful and still passionate about each other.

I'm not sure how Breaking Dawn ends it, but I guess I will read and find out.

Poor Jacob.

On the United States elections

Yay!

Monday Night Memory

My senior year in high school, let's just say I had joined all the geeky groups--Thespians, marching band, swing choir. I had/have many friends from these organizations. And through these groups, I also had lots of different teachers, often fitting personnas for us geeky folks.

Our chorus/swing choir teacher, who, oddly, did not play the piano, was turning 40. As I am getting close to that age, I cannot believe how old I thought he was. Now that I think about it, I am sure he didn't think he was that old.

Anyway, us seniors, being in senioritis mood and all, thought we would thrill him with a birthday surprise. Most of us being part of band, we also got the band director in on it. We all conspired to get into the high school music classroom and the teacher's office and decorate it with black streamers, balloons and posters.

We were in the high school parking lot as night was falling. We were waiting for the band director to show up. I was hanging out in one of my friend's car. She showed us that her car liked to talk instead of beeping at you if you left the door open and we giggled our way through telling the car that the door was not "a jar" but a door. She flipped on the music and Red, Red Wine came on the radio. She stated that she really liked this song. I think it was the first time I had heard it. It was, I believe, the fall of 1988, which was the year of UB40's re-release of the song when it finally hit number one.

We whiled away more time dancing in our seats to the song, other people in the car singing all the words, me finally getting the chorus and singing it with them. It was a good dance song, and if you couldn't tell, I like to dance, considering I was in swing choir (dancing and singing at the same time) and also dance lessons.

The band director showed up and we proceeded, giggling, to fill the music director's office entirely full of black balloons and caking the room with many a black streamer. To overuse the 80s lingo, "It was awesome."

Tuesday night memory

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month and my maternal grandmother, who passed away from breast cancer when I was 8 and she was 60 or almost 60.

My mother's mother always seemed to me to be a very quiet person. I don't remember her voice, I remember her presence. Grandpa always sat in his chair in his living room, well positioned to see the TV and the door where people would come in. I remember Grandma seemed to spend her time in the kitchen. The kitchen had a fun wallpaper on the walls with cooking utensils as part of the motif.

She had one of those enameled wood and metal tables that had leaves that pulled out to make it bigger and two chairs with bent chrome legs. She also had a stove from the late 40s or early 50s. I think the tile was a speckled tile and maybe the cabinets were pink, but I cannot remember that clearly now at all.

What I remember most is waking up in the morning and going downstairs to breakfast in that kitchen. For some reason, I always remember going to breakfast, but not necessarily what I ate. I think there was eggs and cereal and toast, and juice in small glasses.

I remember Grandma making breakfast or lunch for us, but not what we ate. But I just remember her quietness and letting us be the kids we were. We would do a lot of dress up in my mother's and aunts' old clothes upstairs, hide in the lilac bush outside because it conveniently had an open space in the middle, once you navigated the spindly branches that surrounded the space enclosed in green. I think the grown ups knew we were in there, but chose not to pay attention to the fact that we were. I remember the heady smell of what I think were large spirea plants that flanked the porch step.

I remember Grandma doing laundry and hanging up the clothes on the clothesline and running between the clothes as she hung them. It seemed she went about her daily business, but made sure we were fed and bathed when we needed to be. I don't ever remember a cross word from her, I think Grandpa handled that if we got into stuff we weren't supposed to.

I think Grandma was also quiet about her cancer, though the perception of an eight-year old is probably not the most reliable sort of information. I don't know that she let on to us grandkids much about it. And maybe that was the best way, so I could remember how she was quietly there, but taking care of us when we needed it.

Guest blog--Mr. Wild

While walking into our local hardware store today, I was stopped by a complete stranger and asked a question. Normally, in our small town of the rural Midwest, I find this manner of open conversation friendly and charming. After all, we live in a small town and we should expect to be civil to all that live here. The question was directed at my political bumper sticker on the back of my car, a sticker that supports the Democratic candidate, Barack Obama. I was asked, “So, I see you are going to vote for Obama?” To which I assumed the individual was interested in my views on the matter, after all this is a small town where people talk to each other. My answer was a simple “Yes.” I was then offered little opportunity to engage this person in political dialogue as he said, “You will live to regret it,” and walked away with a smirk on his face, confident that his jibe would hit its mark. Seeing that this person was more interested in doing the talking than listening, I chose to ignore the rude and insidious nature of the individual. Upon my inspection of his vehicle for bumper stickers of any nature, I discovered that he chose not to display any. I wish that I was given an opportunity to stop and talk with this individual. I might have asked, "Why did you not put a bumper sticker on your car? Could it be that you are afraid to commit to something that you will live to regret?" I did not place a bumper sticker on my car in the past two presidential elections and now I wish I had. In retrospect, I did live to regret my choice of presidential candidates in the year 2000. I regretted my choice so much that I chose not to vote for the man in the year 2004. Can you imagine the conundrum that people would have if I had kept a bumper sticker from each of these elections on my car? Or maybe it would point out the obvious, that voting with the Republican party is not so much a grand thing anymore, it’s just old. With this said, I hope that all residents of voting age reflect on their choices ahead of them, never regret placing a bumper sticker on the back of their car, and, if you do place a bumper sticker on your car, carry a political pamphlet or two to place under the windshield wiper of the guy who told you "You will live to regret it".

--Mr. Wild

I love my kids

Well, yes, no surprise. I really should, shouldn't I?

I just absolutely love what they come up with, too.

This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I come out of my bedroom to find them, what else? Sword-fighting. Of course, it was with wooden swords, and my dear daughter managed to have the short sword and the shield and my son had the longer sword.

They weren't pounding on each other. It was more strategic. My son was being nice and giving his sister a chance to glance the blows away from her. Just briefly, I stepped in to help her use the shield for more than decoration. I showed her how to hold up the shield to stop his sword, then lower it to take a swipe at him.

So then, I returned to the bathroom to dry my hair. When I came out her brother was shouting, "Wow, she's getting really good at this!" And apparently she was, blocking with the shield, thrusting when he stepped back. He was being a good sport about giving her a fighting chance.

Fortunately, before I left, nobody got major bruises or injuries, nor did it melt down into a whiny, crying, complaining session.

Which is why I think I love my kids. It is so wonderful to see them playing together at something they are both enjoying.

It reminds me of Princess Alice and Prince Max in this book: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0794508987.
They played at being knights and seemed to get along as brother and sister.

It's so nice.

A life of diets

I grew up in a large family with many much older siblings. As a child, I remember that my family, none of which were overweight in any way, were always on various diets and health regimes. My Mum had stayed really skinny through all her other pregnancies until she had me. After that she apparently had never shed the baby pounds. So my mother and my sisters were always following some diet. This was the '80s and the '90s. Diets were the "in" thing.

There was the Banana and Milk diet, where for 3 days all you ate were 3 bananas and 5 glasses of whole fat milk (no skimmed in those days). This never resulted in weight change, but apparently shrunk your stomach so that you could start the next diet all ready to loose weight! There were bowls of homemade coleslaw and very grainy wheat bread. I remember one of my sisters making homemade healthy bread and needing to knead it so much that she was actually throwing it against the cupboards that lined our kitchen walls. There was not eating after 6pm. There was only eating half of anything, half a slice of bread and half an apple. There were calorie counts and point allowances.

Then the exercises that had to be done. There were sit-up competitions, and skipping/jump-rope competitions in our large kitchen. We walked a lot, though my Mum always walked a lot, in fact my whole family always walked a lot. Often daily walks of one hour or more. We walked beaches and woodland parks. We ate chicken and everyone only drank white wine. I was too young to drink, but I remember the white wine everyone else drank reluctantly. We went to saunas and did workouts in the sitting room.

It was in some ways fun. A family event which never really accomplished anything. Although I do have good memories of it all the obsession with weight and the obvious desire to be thinner, always thinner is not a great memory. Even now my Mum will ask, "So how's the weight?" She lives on a different continent and yet she feels she has to ask. The last time she asked I pointed out that it really was none of her business. To which she responded in a huffy voice "Oh, not good, then." And to some extent, she was right. I would like to loose a little weight and if I was exactly the weight I wanted to be I probably would not have been put out by the question. I probably would have answered in a glowing voice, "Just perfect!" In fact, I may have even told her before she had to ask. She has said she just can't bear to loose her beautifully thin daughter that she had at my wedding. But guess what? That was 6 years and 3 children ago. And I'm not exactly lost just because I'm one size bigger.

Through out my life I have had many anorexic and bulimic friends and acquaintances. It is part of our life in our society. I am sure no one reading this does not know of someone who has suffered or is suffering from an eating disorder. I have known too many people who have deprived themselves of food until they were skeletal thin, irrational and irritable. Still they look in the mirror and think, just one more pound and I will be perfect. Or who are scared to eat in case they put it all back on. As a result of these experiences, I can not bear to be really thin and I find it really hard to listen to anyone who is presently obsessing about their weight. Even though, right now, I need to loose some baby weight of my own.

This is so much something I don't want for my children. I don't want them to feel fat when they are 5 because they are surrounded with people who talk about weight all the time. I want them to eat healthy and exercise, but not because they feel guilty. That guilt only makes you want to rebel against it, exercise less and eat more. Society in general is so obsessed with weight and eating habits, that all I can do is try to not make it an issue at home and hope.