Cath, etc.

Priorities! Priorities!

Everything's on the back burner while I'm up to my eyeballs in War & Peace.

At this very moment I'm on page 486 with 177 to go until tomorrow's discussion. And there's still a workout to be sweated through, tonight's dinner to be made, a house to be cleaned, and a dessert to be prepared for tomorrow night's guests.

It's not that I haven't attempted to read in reasonable increments. I have, after all, read 169 of the required number of pages. It's just that literally, every time I sit down to read, something else comes up. Especially during this last week when it's gotten down to Crunch Time.

I blocked out Sunday; Nicole came home and ended up staying for dinner and a delightful repartee with the fam.

I blocked out Monday; my brother stopped by for a long overdue catch-up session.

I blocked out this afternoon; and I've worked way longer than I should have on my half-day Tuesday.

It seems that no matter what you do, you're always having to make choices based on your priorities.  And despite the fact that it looks highly likely that I won't get my reading done for tomorrow, I'm happy with the way I've ordered  mine.

My New Home Decor

Yep. I've pretty much wanted to read this book since I became aware of its presence on earth.

If I had a Bucket List, this would be on it. A kind of must-read-in-this-lifetime type of thing.

Yep. I read Anna Karenina a couple of years ago and loved it, intensifying my desire to read this beast of a book:

And yep. This is how far I've gotten. 202 pages out of 1,358.

But it's OK. We're reading it for my Classics Book Club, taking 4 months to get through it. Convenient, because the Big Book is divided up into four Little Books, like so:

So far, I've met at least a thousand different characters, some of whom have the same name (how many Anna's  can one book reasonably tolerate?), and I'm not entirely sure that I know who knows whom and who's related to what person of influence, and what friend is going after which girl or boy, nor was I aware of how many prince and princesses there were in Russian society at the time. But I'm rolling with it.

And I'm getting a great work-out in the process. I mean, this baby's got some heft! I wonder how many calories I'm burning every night just in my effort to keep the thing upright!

I'm also remembering how much "war" narratives are so not my thing. But I've gotten through the 2nd book which was all about Dolokhov and Rostov and Andrey Bolkonsky and Kutuzov and Napoleon and now we get to go back to the paltry lives of those not enjoying themselves immensely in the intense excitement that comes with the life-and-death line-crossings of battle.

Which for me is a good thing.

In the meantime, this is where this book will live for the next 3 months:

Yep. We're temporarily considering it to be part of our home decor.

I'm just glad that the cover's pretty...and trendy. I have it on good authority that chandeliers are all the rage, you know. ;)

It looks awfully nice on my end table here, don't you think?

So I'm wondering, have you read this book? Have you ever wanted to? What is one book that you feel you must read before you die?...And the really big question...what's stopping you?

Me? I'm just glad I have a group that is interested in reading this book with me, because otherwise, it would still be on my list, I guarantee you!

Good luck to me! I'll keep you posted!

Squeeze This One In

March tells the story of Captain March, the father of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. As you may recall, Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy, along with their beloved Marmee, endure a year of struggles as they live without their patriarch after he joins the Union Army to do his part in the War Between the States.

March is Geraldine Brooks' account of what happened to him in his perilous journey far from the comforts of home, and in telling this story, we learn of the events in his life that formed his character and the situations that shaped his relationship with his wife.

I read it in one sitting on the airplane on the way home from New Hampshire.

To me, it's more than just a summer read, for it is a beautifully written, well-researched, engaging story whose characters will last with me always.

Even still, there's plenty of summer left to squeeze this one in!

A Delightful Diversion

I've been joyfully completely and giddily utterly immersed in this most lovely of novels in preparation for our discussion of it this week in Classics Book Club.

If you are a Jane Austen fan, and especially if you're not, this will make you a true fan of the Victorian novel.

Charles Dickens said it is "[An] admirable story...full of character and power."

I'm just sayin'. Forget me, Charles says you should add it to your list of must-reads.

I can't wait to add all the rest.

The Stuff That Gives Them Joy

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In the middle of everyday life--

(wake up, coffee, workout, shower, breakfast, go to work, work so hard, your eyeballs pop, right outta your head, come home, make dinner, clean up, Facebook, blog hop, bloggity blog, read a little, maybe read a lot, watch a show, On Demand, stay up too late, for no good reason, brush your teeth, collapse in bed, wake up soon, anxious thoughts, get back to sleep, after a while, alarm goes off, I'm never really ready for that alarm)

--the routines that give our lives structure, there is the stuff that gives them joy.

Like the lively discussion of Animal, Vegetable, Mineral at Classics Book Club last week and the general agreement that if one is to commit to eating only food that is either grown and/or raised by you on your land or within your own county, then it helps to be an internationally famous author who works from home.

Like the joy I found in a Thursday-night trip to Costco where there's nary a line and even more importantly, the lack of negotiation of large carts going all directions in the snackfood aisles, not to mention the blessed absence of having to politely tolerate all the oblivious shoppers who think they are the absolute only ones in the store.

Like cleaning off the backyard deck, table, and chairs for the first lengthy sit outdoors of the season.

Like the wonderful reunion we had with our Tennessee friends, Don and Shelley, well-loved and well-missed.

Like chatting with a dear friend for over two hours on a lazy Saturday morning.

Like shopping with Nicole for new spring duds in two sizes smaller than last year.

Like cleaning out a drawer, which led to another drawer, which led to an entire closet.

Like helping my aunt and uncle move from the home where she had also lived, a day filled with hard work, a few tears, and the bond that is shared through the experiences that shape our histories.

Like collapsing in front of the TV with home-delivered Chinese food the General Tso's chicken especially spicy joyfully stumbling across Masterpiece Theater's David Copperfield--all three-and-a-half hours' worth--and having a husband who recognizes your glee and agrees to putting off Kill Bill one more time, just for you.

Like waking up to what will surely be the last major snowstorm of the season and not really minding knowing I'll be in southern Utah later this week for a much-needed hike-in-the-desert-'til-I-drop fix.

Like putting in a hard day's work and gearing down to prepare myself for another on the 'morrow.

So that's me. What stuff is giving your life joy these days?

Every Third Wednesday

 Top row, left to right: Jeanne, Nan, Staci, and Judy. Bottom row, left to right: Karen, Jennafer, Mary Ann, and Yours Truly. Missing from photo: Marilyn

...for seven years now, I've hosted a Classics Book Club in my home.

We read classic books from all eras, cultures, and authors. We gather, we discuss (much more than just books), we eat delicious desserts, we drink good wine (well, some of us do), and we laugh.

In December, we share a potluck meal together, we do a blind book exchange, and we discuss the books we'd like to read the following year. We don't read a book for December, but tackle an epic between the November discussion and our January meeting. Right now we're reading Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie which we'll discuss on the 21st of this month.

Each year we choose a new list of books. I'm super excited about this year's list:

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskill

 Family Matters by Rohinton Mistry

Gabriel's Gift by Hanif Kureishi

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

If On a Winter's Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino

Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen

Animal,  Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

March by Geraldine Brooks

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, first third

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, second third

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, last third

There are many things that I love about this book club, not the least of which is the great group of women who attend faithfully month after month. They are some of my dearest friends. But this book club gets me reading, keeps me connected to beautiful writing, inspires me through all that there is to learn through literature, and allows me to share it with people who care about good books as much as I do.

If you've ever considered joining a book club, or starting one, I highly recommend it. It's easy to put off reading as we try to keep up with work, our kids, the house, the pets, the yard, and with all the entertainment choices offered on TV and the Internet.

But for me, reading a good book is like drinking an elixir that sends me to another place in space and time, and yet it grounds me in a deeper part of myself that is crucial to my well-being. To discuss it with trusted friends helps me see the story from other perspectives besides my own which usually elevates it beyond my own experience--which is exactly where the magic happens.

Besides, maybe all we really need is a deadline. If you've got to have it read by a certain date and everyone is meeting at your house so it's impossible for you to bail--well now, that's some serious motivation.

For a look at the list of books we've read in the last seven years, click here.

Happy reading--and happy book clubbing, as the case may be!

Younger Next Year

So here's the scoop on the Cath's Getting Smaller on the Eat Less Move More Diet.

Once I got down to having lost 15 pounds, I decided to take a break. I was heading into a long vacation, the launch of a new blog, and the holidays. My new and necessary goal: maintenance. And, I'll be honest. Posting my weight and everything I'd eaten each day had lost its shine.

Now I'll be really honest. I have never been able to maintain the weight I've lost on any diet. I always end up gaining what I lost back and then some. So, I wanted to slow down and learn to trust that I could stay at my base weight minus fifteen before I tried to lose any more.

Is that a rationalization? A cop-out?  Since it's been a month ago today since I posted my last weight and I've completely maintained my weight loss, I say it is an attempt to learn to trust myself and know for sure that I've changed a lot of bad habits.

At the same time that I was having that conversation with myself in my brain, I started reading this book, which pretty much caused another major epiphany:

Here's why:

• Unless we are hit by a truck or are stricken with disease, those of us who are 40 and older will probably live into our nineties, whether we like it or not. Those of you under 40 will live longer. When you consider this fact, quality of life becomes a really big deal.
• New scientific research has shown that our bodies are dynamic, literally replacing themselves as old cells are destroyed and new ones are grown:
  • Thigh muscle cells are completely replaced about every four months
  • Blood cells are completely replaced every three months, your platelets every ten days
  • Bones are replaced every couple of years
  • Taste buds are replaced every day
• Exercise helps you grow more cells than what you replace, therefore slowing down the aging process, even at first reversing it, then leveling it off, until it drops sharply at the very end. The aging model we are currently used to: Once you turn 40, without exercise your body decays at a regular pace until you die. I prefer the former.
• Through exercise, 70% of the "normal" decay associated with aging (weakness, sore joints, poor balance, sluggishness) can be forestalled until the end--the end being the nineties.
• Ready for this? This one's astounding: 50% of all illness and injuries in the last third of your life (type II diabetes, certain kinds of cancer, high blood pressure, heart disease, stroke, etc.) can be eliminated by changing your lifestyle in the manner this book suggests. That's big. I mean really big.
• If you are over 40, you can become younger next year at any age. Even into your nineties.

Here's how:

• Exercise six days a week for the rest of your life. Recommendation: an hour a day.
• Do serious aerobic exercise four days a week for the rest of your life.
• Do serious weight training, with weights, two days a week for the rest of your life.
• Don't eat crap.

I have been doing this for 4 weeks now, although I haven't added the weights yet, and I have never felt better in my life. An hour a day, six days a week.  And while I haven't dipped below the 15-pound mark, the interim jeans are starting to fit a little lose through the seat.

Is it hard to exercise an hour a day? I was already doing 45-50 minutes a day, four or five days a week, so to add the extra 10 or 15 minutes was not a big change for me. BUT, the extra calories that you burn in that extra 10 or 15 minutes adds up fast. Now it is a regular part of my routine and I don't really even think about not doing it anymore. In fact, I've reached that blessed point where I am extremely unhappy if I am unable to work out. (Who is this girl? I hardly recognize her!)

There are more particulars to this regimen, of course, but just like when I realized that there are 3500 calories in a pound, I can either work them off or not eat them in the first place, this new information on how we age, and more importantly, how we can delay it, has changed my life. Pick up the book. It's an easy read. Give it to yourself for Christmas. I'd love for all of us to be younger next year.

English Teacher for a Day

I used to be an English teacher.

For ten wonderful years of my life, I stood in front of a multitude of 8th and 9th graders teaching them how to write better, how to read and analyze better, how to improve their vocabulary and grammar, and how to learn about themselves and their world through literature. They wrote in journals, they described their worlds through poetry and personal narrative, and we laughed and cried and learned together. On the best days I had them right in the palm of my hand, and if you looked closely, very closely, you could actually see the lights turning on in their minds at the very instant that they magically connected the dots, comprehending an idea that was brand new to them, a concept I was working hard to impart to them, an epiphany of understanding the depths of which can never be measured.

Those were the moments I worked for. No, wait. Those were the moments that I lived for.

It was a tough job, particularly considering their ages, but it was extremely rewarding. There's nothing like the feeling that you've influenced a young adult in some way. There's nothing like driving home every day knowing that you've done something good with your time and energy--for even on the toughest of days of discipline problems, demanding parents, the two extra kids being inserted into your already full class of 42 and you'd run out of desks five students ago, and a not-always-supportive administration, I always drove away with that feeling. Every single day.

I miss that feeling, that feeling that I've contributed on a grand scale to the common good. That knowledge that I was part of the noblest of professions, one that took to heart the Jeffersonian notion that every individual deserves a good, free education. That through literacy comes knowledge, and from knowledge comes the ability to self-govern, and through self-governance comes independence.

But I burned out--too much work for too little pay for too little support and appreciation--and it took its toll.

But once a year I get to play English teacher for a day and lead the discussion for my short story book club. Tomorrow night it's my turn to weave the discussion into a more thorough understanding of the book we've been reading this past summer, Out Stealing Horses. It is a good book, beautifully and poetically written, and there will be a great deal to discuss. The characters, the sequence in which the author decided to make us aware of events that had happened in the story, the landscape, the underlying symbolism, the beautiful metaphors.

And while I won't be influencing very young minds, and I won't be leaving feeling like I've contributed on a grand scale to the betterment of society, I will get to put on that discussion-leader hat and we will find the magic in a well-written book, and we will leave feeling more connected, more bonded to one another in this, the first meeting of the our 26th year.

And I will recognize the woman in me who used to bring this kind of insight to kids every day. I'll get to visit her and remember what it was like to lead a discussion that touched minds through literature. For I miss her, my teacher self, but not enough to go back, and not enough to change my current direction. But it is nice to touch bases with her every now and then and remember the doors that can be opened through literature, and writing, and connecting with one another through a story told on the pages in a book. 

It is enough, for now, to play English teacher for a day.

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This Is Why I Read

I just put down a wonderful book--a sleeper, really, never heard of it before, recommended by the best hometown bookstore in Salt Lake City, and I am, in a word, euphoric.

You know that feeling, when you finish an engaging book, and you're so full of love for the characters and oozing with respect for the writer and you're in awe of the description that enables you to see what they see, hear what they hear, smell what they smell, feel what they feel, to the point where every breath that they take becomes breathing for you?

To the point where in the chapter called "Leaving," you break down in your own tears as she gathers her things and says her good-byes to her friends, her community, the people who got her through, wondering how is she going to live without them and you're breathing with her and feeling the knot in her stomach as she packs her treasures, feeling her feelings that remind you exactly of the moment when Maria got in her car and drove to New Hampshire I haven't thought about that moment in ages, when Nicole left for Alaska it was only four months but it felt like forever, and Beccah spent her last night in our house before going away to school still adjusting, still missing her, and then you remembered the day your dad dropped you off for college and it's true what they say you can never really go home again, and while she is leaving you are leaving and being left and being left behind because that's the beauty of literature, the beauty of words that take you someplace else only to remind you of where you've been.

And you are so sad that the book is over, that you won't be returning to it every night, that you won't be visiting Marietta, who will live on in your mind like a friend.  That there will be no more discovery of Marietta and her twin boys, Calvin and Nathan, no more learning how it will all turn out in spite of their struggles, because of their struggles, as a result of the character that was built, page by page, from their struggles. But knowing that she will be OK, that she has come to a point of conclusion, that she is finally comfortable in her own skin, waiting for the sunflowers to grow as tall as trees. All thanks to the author, Susan Straight, who has taken good care of us, her readers, in the satisfying ending to this beautiful, well-told story.

The language like poetry in my heart, a struggle at first, then gathering its own rhythm, its own cadence, its own voice, becoming music from chaos. As though getting to know the language was the same as getting to know Marietta.

This is why I read. For the brilliant writers who have the skill to transcend me to a place higher than myself, creating characters who will live in my mind forever, not so confined to the page, but rattling around in my brain, shadows of my self, friends to call upon as life draws nearer. For the paths they cause me to take as they skitter at the edge of my reality, evoking memories, comparing feelings, teaching me about myself by showing me worlds beyond my own.

To put down a book at its conclusion and weep with gladness.

This is why I read.

Good Summer Reads & A Prize at the End

In a little over a week, I'm going on vacation.

Mark and I are dying to get away. Is that because we're in such desperate need? Or maybe it's because we know it's getting closer so it makes the waiting that much more painful? Or maybe it's a combination of both? What I do know is that both of us need a break from our abnormally crazy work lives, the ponderous heat of the summer, and the utter dreariness of routine.

One of my favorite things to do on vacation is to sink my teeth into a good, long book. I savored every page of Middlesex by Geoffrey Eugenides on a lounge chair on a Mexican beach while my cabana boy, Medardo, brought me uno mas de Miami Vice, dobles, por favor. So I'm wondering what a good choice might be for this upcoming furlough. As our departure grows closer, I've started to consider my options. I've got two books to read for my different book clubs including I Been in Sorrow's Kitchen and Licked Out All the Pots by Susan Straight and Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. I've got several books waiting in the wings, including Brief Encounters with Che Guevera by Ben Fountain, On the Road by Jack Kerouac, The World According to Garp by John Irving, and Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett.

But I've been hearing a lot about this Twilight book (I know, I'm a little late to the party on that one), and I still have the last two Harry Potter books left to read (very late to that party, practically a pumpkin), and a gal who spent some time looking at my page, The Best Books I Have Ever Read, has recommended that I read The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak, of which I've also heard rave reviews from some of my book club buddies. (Thanks for the tip!)

So many books, so little time. What do you think? What kind of books make the best summer reads? Which ones have you not been putting down?

To thank you for your input, what say you leave a comment recommending a good summer read and I'll choose a random winner? The prize? One of my best-loved books, gently used but thoughtfully given.

Let the recommendations begin! You've got until midnight on Monday to be eligible for the prize!