2013 National Book Award Nominees

Here are the National Book Award Nominees for 2013.

Have any of y'all read any of them?

Thoughts?

I'm Moving!

At least my blog is.

I have a friend who has called me the serial blogger. I make blogs and delete them. Blogging seems like a good idea until I start doing it and can't figure out why I thought it might be a good idea and so delete my blog of the moment.

Raspberry Mousse has stuck around a lot longer than I thought it would. Unfortunate because I despise having a hyphen in my blog name. I didn't mind it when I began because I didn't think I'd still be here. But some of you seem to enjoy reading what I have to say. Consider my mind boggled.

I appreciate the opportunity to write and the positive feedback and encouragement I get from you. But I do not appreciate that hyphen.

So I'm moving.

Don't worry. You guys can come with me. You can find me over here at www.sweetlemonpie.com.

I know, I know, why would I give up Raspberry Mousse? Because I'd pick sweet lemon pie over raspberry mousse just about any day.

Twelth Night

I pulled out one of my cold weather coats and a warm pair of gloves last night. I spent two hours sitting in a park and it got cold. I knew as I was pulling out my coat that I would be one of the few dressed so warmly. (And by the few what I really mean is I was the only one dressed so warmly.) I may have gotten a glance or two at the beginning of the evening. Really? You're wearing that? As the evening progressed, more and more people huddled closer to themselves, pulling clothing tight over any possible warm air escapes. They all understood why I had brought my heavy coat with the warm, lined hood. Even with my coat and gloves I found myself wishing I had worn a nice tall pair of boots with some warm, knit leg warmers inside. A thermos full of hot chocolate would also have been lovely.

There are few things in life that I consider worth being cold for. I do not like being cold. However, a free performance of low-budget Shakespeare will almost always make the list.

Besides, it warms my heart to pull out my coats and gloves. Warm winter clothing? Yes, please!

PS Do you think that Shakespeare used twin brothers to play the parts of Sebastian and Viola? Pretty sure that would have been awesome.

PPS Utah Shakespeare in the Park is performing Twelth Night for two more nights. Make this happen.

MLT

Last night we made dinner. At home. It was amazing.

We had to buy some basic cooking utensils and a frying pan as our cabinets are not quite usable yet and everything is still packed away.

We used plump garden tomatoes and high quality bacon and put together some stellar BLTs. We also used one of our new ovens to bake up some sweet potato fries. I'm pretty sure nothing has ever tasted quite so delicious.

I've always been fond of BLTs. As a child it was one of my most ordered items at restaurants. Of course, back then my family liked to tease me (led by my father; why is it always the father?) and say I was ordering an MLT: mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato. Apparently a BLT without bacon isn't actually a BLT.

I do miss seeing the stupefied faces of our waiters. My parents believed in teaching us how to function in the world, thus we were responsible for our own ordering. The waiters would slant their eyes over to my mother. Are you okay with me feeding your child a BLT without the B? Of course she was, and of course that is what I wanted. Really, there is almost nothing better than a nice MLT and a pile of fries.

I still don't eat bacon as a general rule. On a BLT I'll allow it. Unless it's soggy and been too enthusiastically spread over a poor showing of vegetables. Then it's back to the traditional, childhood favorite, MLT.

Now that we've got dinner making out of the way, it's time to move on to things of greater importance. BLTs are well enough, but I need to make me some cookies. If the mixing bowls and cookie ingredients aren't unearthed in the next couple of days, I might be lost to cookie insanity. It's a thing.

It's hard to imagine my bedtime could be any earlier than it already was.

But it is.

I went to bed last night just before nine.

It was lovely.

Order and Chaos

At times I feel my life is devolving into chaos. Other times I feel I am only a few steps away from perfect order. My life never falls completely to pieces nor is it ever perfectly orderly.

I find it humorous, in a grim sort of way, that part of me strives for order and peace and routine in my life. Control. Yet when we write stories of people who live lives of perfect contentment and order we set them forth on adventures that will make them unfit for their former way of living. They are forever changed for the better, we feel.

I have never met a person that lived a life of contentment and perfect pleasure. It is a pervasive illusion that we daily sell to ourselves. This is what I am striving for. This is what I will become.

Lives of perfect order do not exist. But I need not fear my life will ever become pure chaos.

There is no point of perfect order to strive for, to seek in the future somewhere. My life is what it will be and will be what it is.

Each day I step forward into a future that is equal parts chaos and order. My orderly life would be incomplete without the chaos and the chaos would be unlivable without the order.