February Books

I read eight books this month:

• The Art of Happiness: A Handbook for Living by the Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler
• The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate
• Band of Brothers by Stephen E. Ambrose
• The Lost Lake by Sarah Addison Allen
• My Antonia by Willa Cather
• Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
• The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
• Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore

My favorite by far was The One and Only Ivan. It made me wish I still lived with my sister and her kids because they would for sure find it delightful. Instead I sent her a picture of the cover and told her to pick it up when they go to the library. It's necessary.

Don't ask me how I missed reading The Wind in the Willows as a small thing but I unquestionably did. I think I would have loved it.

I enjoyed Band of Brothers, The Lost Lake, and My Antonia. While I have thoughts on all three of them, the books themselves don't stand out in my mind.

I was disappointed by The Art of Happiness. I enjoyed reading the Dalai Lama's words. I did not enjoy having them filtered through the mind and voice of the particular therapist that coauthored the book. I'm worried about pursuing other books by the Dalai Lama because I think that most, if not all, are coauthored. Maybe I'll like the other coauthors more?

I didn't have strong feelings either way about Bitterblue. I didn't love it. I didn't dislike it. I did like Graceling when I first read it years and years ago and I think Bitterblue was keeping in the same vein, typical of this writer and series. Maybe I'm past generally liking YA novels?

Things Fall Apart was the book club pick for this month. I was sure I had never read it before until I started reading it; then I was sure I had read it before. I'm glad I had an opportunity to read it again. I don't know exactly when I read it before but I know that while I appreciated the writing, I didn't appreciate the story. The themes are pretty profound. While I knew it was sad story that last time I read it and mourned for Okonkwo, it's not until you can appreciate those themes on a deeper level that you can understand how tragic the story is.

PS The Dalai Lama is one of my heroes. I love that man.

San Diego

A couple of weekends ago was a three-day weekend. You all know what that means: road trip!

This time Pa came along for the ride. This was most excellent for me because that meant Pa did a lot of the driving which meant I had time to paint my toenails perfect, San Diego pink to prep them for sandal wearing. We stayed with cousin Bonnie who conveniently has an apartment above one of her out buildings.

The first thing we did when we drove into San Diego was head to the museum of making music. I didn't know so much innovation in music had occurred in the last 100 years. I know a lot about the innovations in music over the centuries before that but I considered music to have been pretty much what it was for over 100 years at least. I was wrong. It seems perhaps of late things may have stagnated a bit but I have every belief that musicians will keep innovating and pushing the boundaries on accepted instruments.

I sent the Middle Brother the above picture and told him his next project ought to be learning how to play the bass harp guitar. I don't think he's really on board with this idea. Which means one of you lovelies can take it up. I would support any or all of you in making this happen.

Our next stop was Lego Land. Ma told both Pa and I the whole ride down that she wanted to build 100 custom mini figures. We didn't build a single one. We did eat dinner at Lego Land mostly because we were starving after a day of driving. Probably the best idea ever. Nowhere else have I been given a box of legos to play with while I waited for dinner.

It was Valentine's day. Don't they look so in love? You'll notice that Johnny is guarding the sacred treasure, a heart-shaped junior mint. The structure he is standing on is about three times taller than can be seen in this picture. Ma and I are probably the best lego builders ever.

Saturday we headed to Scripps Aquarium. It was fun. A little small. They had an entire exhibit dedicated to solar power and protecting the environment. Not exactly the responsibility of an aquarium but kind of I guess. It didn't matter, of course, because they still had tanks of baby sea horses and the shallow water displays with bright colored star fish in them, which is what really matters. Admittedly, I did have fun turning the wheel to make the music turn on (part of the environmentally conscious exhibit). I was able to maintain a steady 72 watts of power for maybe thirty seconds. I was pretending to be a wind turbine.

This is the picture we took after Ma said, "Here! Come help me take a selfie!" Pa and I were confused but we got it sorted eventually.

We also had the unique opportunity of being eaten by a shark. Tank unnecessary. We live on the edge.

We ended the day at Seaworld where we took only one picture because we were too busy gawking at sea animals.

This is what I call a Pa picture. It is my goal to get a Pa picture every vacation I take with him. Previous Pa pictures have included cowboy hats, teddy bears, and cups of yogurt. The props are unnecessary but they help Pa get in his Pa picture mode. Doesn't he look good with his flamingo face on? But don't tell him I look for these picture opportunities. He'll feel embarrassed and not let me take my Pa pictures anymore.

Ma wanted to play the games and win a giant shamu to bring home with us (where would we have put it in our overstuffed car?) but the games closed down before we finished gawking. I love the dolphin shows as much as I did when I was a kid. Well, almost. Back then I wanted to be a dolphin. (The Incredible Mr. Limpet anyone? I tell you, it's possible!)

Sunday we went to church as early as we could so we'd have the rest of the day for toodling around. Cousin Bonnie was kind enough to show us some sights and take pictures when we posed for them.

This was taken on the top of Mt. Helix. Did I mention I was wearing sandals because it was so deliciously warm? Loved it.

We went to Balboa Park afterward and happened to be there just in time to see the weekly Sunday organ concert played on the famous Spreckels Organ. We also happened upon it on the pet parade day. The organist spent much of her time playing such pleasing numbers as How Much Is That Doggy in the Window. It was okay though because she started with a Bach prelude. If I lived in San Diego I think I would try to make it to Balboa Park every Sunday if it meant I could hear Bach played on that beautiful organ. I think I need to put 'learn organ' on my list of to dos, as well as 'become independently wealthy' so then I can add 'build massive organ to play Bach on' to my must make happen list. Bonus points if the organ is outdoors.

Cousin Bonnie was kind enough to let us off near the organ before parking the car. Pa proposed sending a text message with info on where we were sitting. We proposed sending a visual image. It sounded funner.

We went to the Japanese Friendship Garden, which was disappointing, and the Museum of Man, which was interesting. Ma had it in her head that we were going to go to five different museums at least. Despite loving museums more than anyone I know, we are pretty much museum wimps and were all happy to be done. I wanted to ride the free tram that takes you around the park but I was too tired and hungry so we skipped it. Next time.

There was nothing left to be done but to head back to Bonnie's house and eat some good mexican food. Yum.

At one point during the trip Cousin Bonnie broke of a part of a large, well-tended succulent plant. It wasn't hers. Does that make her a plant thief? She told me to take home the little branch she had broken off and plant it.

The big one is the branch, the smaller ones are leaves Ma pulled off the big one for the purpose of planting. Cousin Bonnie has a green thumb. I have a black thumb. It's funny how people who have green thumbs don't understand people who have black thumbs. "You just stick it in some soil, give it some water, and it grows like crazy!" Not quite. I stick it in some soil, obsess over how much water it is getting, do research at the library, check out half a dozen books, do research online, go back to the library to do more research and to check out another half a dozen books, and then my plant dies.

My maternal grandmother, from whom I inherited my black thumb, was much more efficient in her plant killing. She'd water it and maybe do a little research here and there but mostly she let her plants die without prolonging the ordeal by obsessively trying to keep them alive. I might get there someday but I still believe in my heart of hearts that I can learn to grow things.

We were very sad to leave but at the same time happy to be coming home. We brought along some grapefruit that Cousin Bonnie picked just for us the morning we left, as well as a bag of oranges bigger than my torso (really) and a couple of bags of avocados. The oranges and avocados came from stands on the side of the road. I'm probably some sort of vitamin C superheroine by this time. Unfortunately, it's not going to last long. We're nearly out of oranges and I'll soon return to my mundane, lacking in serious vitamin C self.

I can't wait to go back to San Diego. I also can't wait to take another vacation with the parents. We don't often take time for just the three of us to be a family.

Things that might have been worth memorializing in pictures:

• Boris the giant tortoise who, by the way, did not move slowly
• Cousin Bonnie's husband (he's in a couple rock bands)
• Cousin Bonnie's kids
• A view from the side of the mountain I didn't climb but meant to on Cousin Bonnie's property
• Pa playing the electric guitar at the museum of making music
• Ma with her toenails painted as well as her two-year-old granddaughter can paint them (Ma did paint them herself)
• Me trying to carry a bag of oranges larger than my torso

Today I Am Sore

Yesterday was my first outdoor run of the season. I went barely three miles and ran most of the way.

Like a fool, I thought I'd be able to do the same run today. I need a day, maybe two, to recover. My recovery strategy: go up and down the stairs as few times as possible.

A month and a half ago while on my way to Phoenix, I drove past a girl in southern Utah running maybe four feet away from gorgeous red rocks. Being behind the driver's seat in an empty part of the state on a long sort of drive, I wistfully pondered the loveliness of running beside red rock every day.

I am embarrassed to admit how long it took me to remember that while I might not have red rock to run beside, I have a beautiful canyon. I suppose sometime during all those years of riding my bike, long board, or feet up and down those canyon paths I forgot how wondrously lucky I am to live right next to it.

I consider my run yesterday to be the most beautiful run I've been on yet. Surprisingly, this has very little to do with my realization of several weeks ago. It was beautiful because I ran outside for the first time in months instead of trudging through my miles on the treadmill. Also because it was perfectly sunny outside and while I was glad for my long-sleeves at the beginning of the run, by the end I wished I had worn short sleeves. The canyon, too, was beautiful, but when I think about my run yesterday that's not what I remember. I remember the sun and the fresh air and looking down at my legs pushing forward step after step after step.

I am inordinately pleased with myself. I went on a run. In February. Outside. And, I've got two more canyon runs already lined up for later this week.

Runs like yesterday were how I ended the season in the fall of 2012. This is why I love running: if you do it, you can't help but get better.

Which is true of most things in life. Make time and do it. You, more than anyone, will be surprised by the results.

My Reading Plan

I've worked every day this week.

On Tuesday I logged in for one meeting. While in the meeting I realized I was not capable of doing any work and promptly climbed back in bed where I spent the rest of the day. Wednesday I slept in, not logging in until the late morning. I intended to work only for a few hours but had a mess come up that needed sorting and my drugs were working well enough that I worked almost a full day, after which I climbed back in bed.

I probably shouldn't have worked at all on Monday, but I put in a full day's work. And by that I mean I was at my computer for eight hours, with a break for a lunchtime nap. I did very little work despite my best efforts. Sick brain. One of the few things that did come out of my work on Monday was an organized plan for my reading. It's strange that through my efforts to get work done Monday, this plan for reading came floating to the top of my brain when I've never before considered having a plan for reading.

The plan: each month I will try to read one book out of five different genres: classic, fiction, children's fiction, history or biography, and nonfiction. I will also read whatever my book group is reading.

It might sound limiting but it almost comes as a relief. I've been trying to get all the books on my bookshelf read. I've made serious progress over the last year, but I've got a few dozen at least to go. I look at my shelf and don't know where to start. At the same time there are books I don't have on my shelf that I want to read and I almost feel like I can't go to the library because I have books at home to read.

This plan will enable me to pull books from my shelf I haven't read and fill in the holes with books from the library. It also gives me a reason to peruse the books on my to-read shelf on goodreads. Previous to this plan I would throw books on the list but never consult it.

With both a physical and virtual pile of books waiting to be read, this gives me direction, purpose, and the advantage of never being at a loss as to what to read next.

And suddenly the reason why I subconsciously created a reading plan is clear. Have I mentioned my work life has been slightly out of control and overwhelming of late? My answer to being overwhelmed is to organize. Always to organize. There's not much that can be done about work, but you better believe I can whip my reading into shape.

January Books

I've been sick sick sick. Over the past week, when I haven't been working I've been in bed. Occasionally I'm on the couch with my mother watching an episode of Star Trek. One of the really old ones from the 1960s. Who thought wearing mini skirts in space was a good idea? But mostly I'm just in bed. It's good for me to be really sick sometimes. It helps me remember to appreciate all the rest of the times when I'm not sick.

These are the books I read in January:

• The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
• The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey 
• Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell
• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
• The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka
• The Memory Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards

I loved A Tree Grows in Brooklyn best. It was beautiful. I also loved The Book Thief and Outliers. I loved the perspective of death. Death is a frequent character in books but I've never read one where I found death's perspective so unique and worth appreciating. I'm only sad I waited so long to read the book; my copy has a big NOW A MOTION PICTURE burble ruining the cover. Pretty much the worst. Outliers was interesting and easy to read. I'm hoping to dig into Gladwell's other books.

I really liked The Buddha in the Attic. I think many people would find the collective perspective used throughout the book disorienting and alienating. I thought it was lovely. The Snow Child I also really liked.

I found The Memory Keeper's Daughter a bit too didactic for my taste. The man who made the wrong choice ruined his life, destroyed his marriage, and estranged his son in one act. The woman who made the right choice changed her life for the better, living with fullness and joy and service to hundreds of women with children like her own where before her life was dull and empty and full of nothing but waiting.