First off, don’t let the photo above mislead you. Yes, I’m holding my latest favorite recipe book but we don’t eat our chickens. In actuality, I am polling the hens to see whether they prefer I use their eggs for cottage cheese pancakes or fudgy icebox brownies. Both recipes are among other standouts in Phyllis Grant’s new book, “Everything Is Under Control.”
Read moreDeath, Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry, and Not Enough Sex
Last week, my husband and I were engaged in our usual bedtime routine, he eating a bowl of cereal and me watching the darkness creep across the yard and imagining worst case scenarios, when I asked him, “What if we both die of COVID at the same time? What will happen to the farm?”
Read moreOld Wives' Lore for Gardeners
Among the garden books I inherited from the wonderful Scott Siekman, the previous owner of our farm, is a slim paperback titled “Old Wives’ Lore for Gardeners”. It’s an odd little book, full of very unscientific advice, unsubstantiated rumor, and sometimes shocking innuendo. Slyly written by Maureen and Bridget Boland, it opens with this caveat: “We are not Old Wives ourselves, being in fact old spinsters; nor are we professional gardeners in any sense. We collected the tips in this book because we needed them.”
Read moreHow Betty MacDonald Endured the Plague
Every morning, I wake up, reach for my rectangle of despair, and gaze at the terrifying stories we can’t believe are real. It has become a sick fascination — clicking headlines, gorging on scientific papers, scrolling for hours in search of answers to the shocking number of unknowns about this disease.
I might not be infected but I sure feel trapped.
Read moreA Few Book Recommendations for a Short Attention Span
Have you noticed a change in your reading habits? Do you read less? Do you struggle to become immersed in a book?
It’s a real problem, this sad decline in an ability to concentrate while reading.
Is it laziness? Are our brains a muscle that’s gone flabby? It takes so little effort to turn on Netflix and hang out with Walter White, Daenerys Targaryen, Don Draper, Mrs. Maisel, their rich visual worlds coming to us fully formed, requiring nothing of our own imagination, only a pair of eyeballs and minimal consciousness.
Read moreBig Little Lies and Max
It’s back! Season Two of that wonderful whodunit/howdunit/whydunit Big Little Lies, executive produced by Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman, will air on HBO beginning Sunday, June 9th.
Longtime blog readers will remember my erudite young friend Max who hated La La Land. Our disagreement made for a good blog post. Max has strong opinions and backs them up. Also, he’s a classy debater. And he is currently working in L.A. as a producer. So I like turning to him for an insider’s perspective. What follows is our chat about Season One. It took place two years ago. I jotted it down. (Yes, I often write down the clever things you people say to me.)
Read moreBook Review: The Baltimore Book of the Dead
I don’t mind thinking about death. I am not repelled by its possibility. (There’s a joke.) My fear of it has dissipated as my children have grown and I have become so contented in life. Also, I’d much rather beat my husband across that meridian.
Now that I’m well into my fifties and traversing the shadowed side of the mountain, what lies below in the valley seems interesting. My sense of adventure is aroused. When I draw my last and my body begins the process of turning out the lights, then might I learn what is next. Ah! The chance to discover the big fat unanswerable question — how is that not very very thrilling!
Read moreThe Wet Engine: A Heartfelt Book Review
I finished the book and because I was sad that there were no pages, I read the acknowledgments. There, in the fourth paragraph, a name: the boy who broke my heart in my youth, who sent me crying to my pillow countless nights, whose love I couldn’t hold. This boy who made me realize that life before him was all Barbies on the floor, that love was real but not forever, and when it ended, it hurt. I could see him in a Powderhorn Mountaineering ski vest and painter’s pants. Broad-shouldered, golden-haired, laughing with crinkly eyes. That boy. He had grown up to become an anatomy professor in Eugene, Oregon, and there was his name, in the back of this heartbreaking book.
Read moreWhen young, we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall.
Crime and Punishment
When I was sixteen, I spent a month canoeing with a bunch of juvenile delinquents from New York. This was through a program called Outward Bound, which I had signed up for of my own volition. They, on the other hand, had been sent to the boundary waters of Minnesota by a judge who ordered “wilderness training” as an alternative to juvie jail.
My group of young criminals included a skinny dude with a peach-fuzz chin and lifeless eyes, a cruel rich boy and his toady sidekick, and a big shaggy guy who looked and sounded like Jack Nicholson. The four of them were horribly mean to me and the other two women, and when I wasn’t cowering from their bullying, I was plotting ways to get even.
Read moreHourglass: A Memoir by Dani Shapiro
I've just finished the memoir, "Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage," by Dani Shapiro. It is a tiny book -- the pages laid out with shockingly wide margins -- but does it ever pack a punch. Which is surprising given that Shapiro describes what many of us are living: the vague blandness of waking up next to the same person every morning, years on end. She and her husband "M." love each other. There is no dysfunction, and the drama is the kind you can't escape in life -- accidents and illnesses, ailing parents, career disappointment.
Read moreHow to Survive the Family Road Trip? Podcasts!
In the snapshot above, circa 1976, my family is packed in our Chevy Impala, ready to make the return drive from a dude ranch in Colorado back home to Illinois. You can't really tell from the darkened photo but the three of us in the backseat are completely miserable and the key is not yet in the ignition. Oh the agony of 1001 miles in a car with undependable air conditioning, shocks that didn't absorb, and a radio that my father refused to switch on. Time slowed to the point that my Barbie dolls married and divorced several times on the journey.
Read moreSurvey Findings and a Big Fat Thank You
From me to you, a virtual bouquet of flowers thanking you for all the valuable feedback you gave me in the survey I sent out recently. I've hired two women, Alicia and Alexis, who are helping me with the blog and shop, and both of them encouraged me to poll you. I'm so glad I did. Your preferences will shape my blog and newsletter going forward.
I know you are staring at a bunch of pixels right now but the more subtle truth is that we have a thing, you and me, a give and take relationship. I want to give you content that you care about and that you enjoy. In return, I hope you will click on my content, maybe leave a comment or a 'like', maybe even share it from time to time.
Read moreA New Direction? A Chance to Win $250?
I'm asking for opinions today. Yours. If you are a reader, I want to hear from you! Your opinion will help me form a plan going forward. Because change is a-comin'.
Also, if you do take my survey, you will be entered in a drawing for a $250 gift card to that one-of-a-kind boutique, Finder Not Keeper.
Click below. It'll take four minutes. FOUR minutes. That's less time than it takes to make a cup of tea. And it helps me greatly!
I'll be back next week with a cool post about the most bizarre and beautiful artist enclave I've ever seen. Thank you for your time!
Photo of me in a boat yelling to no one in particular,"Let's go there!" by Renn Kuhnen.
The State of the Blog 2018
I love the photo of Lynne, (above) and the way she gazes steadfastly at the camera. You really loved this photo of a woman by a lake wearing a photo of a lake. There's something mysterious about her eyes, don't you think? (Click here to read the post.)
We are all drawn to people with mystery. Did you know that you readers are a great mystery to me? Every Friday, after I publish a post, my husband and I spend the evening talking about the interesting things you write or the unexpected way you interact with my content. You never fail to surprise me. it is delightful, actually, to never know what to expect from you. It keeps me on my toes.
Read moreReading in Bed: Three Books that Span a Lifetime
That's me in the photograph. It's the day after Thanksgiving and I'm spending the morning in bed with a great book and a cup of Earl Grey. Heaven. I might look a little fuzzy and out of focus but you would too if you had just made three gallons of turkey gravy.
You can't see the title in the photo, but the book I'm reading is one I stole from my fourteen-year-old niece. She might be my new reading soulmate. We were on vacation, pontooning on Green Bay, and I recognized a fellow book nerd when she showed up with a dogeared paperback in hand. All afternoon, she tolerated me leaning over her shoulder until finally, she handed over the book. A generous gesture.
Read moreFiendishly Handsome Brits, Everywhere You Look!
In London last week, I spent a few afternoons wandering the streets alone while my husband attended meetings. The monuments and museums were grand, and between destinations, the people watching was just as compelling. On a whim, I decided to snap photos of street fashion. Scrolling through my phone after about fifty pics, I noticed a pattern emerge. The stylish ones were mostly men.
It's true. The Dapper Dan of Londontown is everywhere. Well-tailored, well-heeled, well-coiffed. Bespoke jacket. Tight pants. Tighter shirts. Chiseled chins.
Read moreShe's Been Dead Two Hundred Years? How Jane Austen Stays Fresh
Many years ago, we moved into a new neighborhood in suburban Chicago. As we were unloading the moving truck, a couple from down the street stopped in to welcome us.
After kindly extending a plate of freshly baked cookies, they got down to brass tacks. "Might I inquire which school the children will attend in the fall?" the gentleman asked. "Well, our realtor told us that this neighborhood's grade school is awesome," I replied. He cringed and leaned in. "You know," he whispered, "they teach trades in the public high school here. Perhaps a look at the Country Day School is in order."
Read moreThe Best Books I've Read the Past Twenty Years: Part One
Beginning in 1995, I recorded the title, author, and short blurb of every book I read. The best books got stars. I was picky about awarding them.
This act of journaling corresponded with the start of my job at the local library where I was paid actual cash for the task of reading books and recommending them to others.
Read moreLa La Land: Masterpiece or Garbage? Online Debate Erupts!
That very dashing young man in the header photo is my friend Max. As a film student, he produced both of the videos for Finder Not Keeper. We go back a long way. Late last year, he baited his Facebook hook with a very juicy worm of an opinion and the following conversation ensued through texts and Facebook messages. Max's commentary is gray. Mine is green and blue. We both use swears.
Read moreOn the Third Anniversary of The Bubble Joy, Here's What I Know About You
I've always struggled with deadlines. Procrastination and I go way back. I tried to dump Procrastination but he was like the Navy seaman Jon Something-or-other who had a thing for me in 1979 and kept popping up outside our kitchen window, scaring the bejeezus out of my poor mother, until 1984 when he showed up AWOL and got put in the brig and finally left me alone.
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