To Dream the Impossible Dream

Last year our bowling team (named the Alley Cats, in the Goof Balls league, to let you know how "serious" our bowling league is) finished dead last in the rankings (of 16 teams). We actually won a prize for it. Hey, five bucks is five bucks!

This year by some miracle, our team finished first for the second half of the season. We still can't believe it. Maybe this score from a month ago helped: (Mine is the bottem score on the right).
But still, that was just one game. We arrived at bowling today to see our team as number one. No pressure (ha!) We calculated where everyone else was and determined that if we won one game out of the three today we would stay in first place. We squeaked it out by winning one and half games (we tied the first game). We still can't believe it. Next week we bowl against the winners of the first half of the season to see which team is the championship team. Who would have guessed?

It's a fine way to finish the year - Marci is moving, and this way she can finish up with a bang.

Shall We Dance?

I have always loved to watch dancing. Ever since I can remember I've wallowed in musicals, marveling at the dancing. I never took dancing lessons of any style as a young girl, but I did take a ballroom dance class at BYU one semester - however I tore the cartilage in my knee while skiing a few weeks into the class and had to drop it. I've always harbored a secret desire to be out there on the dance floor, gliding gracefully along.

About 12 years ago I went on a field trip with some sixth graders to the Pacific Northwest Ballet. It was the best field trip I've ever been on. We saw the dancers practice and perform. Then they had all the kids try doing different things. It was a very interactive field trip. I came home exhilarated and told Audrey that after the field trip I wanted to take ballet. She said she'd always wanted to take ballet also. Suddenly the words popped out of my mouth: "If you find us a class, I'll go with you." She hopped right on it, and the next week or so we appeared in an adult beginning ballet class. Audrey was a junior in high school, and the youngest in the class. There were about 6 or 7 in the class. The teacher was Julie and she was wonderful, and marvelously patient with the likes of me and my inflexible, out-of-shape body. Audrey and I had a great time taking that class together.

Sometime after Christmas Julie asked us if we wanted to perform in the end of the year recital for the dance studio. Yikes! I wasn't really excited about the idea, but decided to go along with the majority vote. Unfortunately the majority voted for the idea. Luckily Julie wanted us all to look good at the recital - after all, her reputation was on the line also. She choreographed a dance to the music Largo from Xerxes by Handel. It was designed so that there were very few times we were all doing the same thing together. She was so wise. We practiced and practiced. One of the moves we did was a split-fall, which is a way of landing looking like you did the splits. She found very pretty outfits for us - a black and white long sleeved leotard with a long skirt attached. They were about as flattering as you could get for a bunch of adult beginning ballerinas.

The day of the recital came. Ray came to watch - I'm not sure who else did. The dance came and went, and we did fine. The biggest reward for me was when Ray said, "I watched everyone dancing. Then all of a sudden one of the women did the splits. Then another did the splits. Then another. I thought to myself: what in the world is Diane going to do when it's her turn!!!" Lo and behold I did my split fall, which looked like the real thing. He said he just about fell off his chair. That was all the accolade I needed.

The next year we had to quit the class. These days Audrey and I get our dancing kicks by watching Dancing with the Stars together every week. Deep in the recesses of my mind lurks the secret desire: I wonder if they'll ever have the show Dancing with the Housewives?

Scary Books

Far and away the most terrifying book I've ever read is In Cold Blood by Truman Capote. It changed my life - and not necessarily for the better.

I read the book when I was a junior in high school. It was gripping from the first paragraph. The first chapter was horrific. An entire family murdered - in cold blood. Capote did his homework, and he made it seem as if I were right there as the whole thing happened. That terrible event was over and done with in the first chapter as I recall. Then I was compelled to read the rest of the book to make sure those men were caught and made to suffer for their brutality. After all, it was a true story - which made the whole thing even more scary to me.

I became terrified of being awake alone in the house at night. I would go to bed earlier than everyone else so that I could be asleep before all the lights were out and the house was silent.  However, I was so scared that I was not able to sleep, therefore I was awake long after everyone else had gone to bed. And the house was not silent. I heard every creak and squeak that happens in a house as it settles. I almost had a heart attack when the furnace kicked on. I slept with a frying pan and my assembled flute in my bed for possible weapons. I littered the floor of my room so that there would be some warning of someone trying to come in. It makes my heart beat faster just remembering all that. The fear lasted for months. I went so far as to vow I would never step foot in the state of Kansas (where the murders happened). I'm not saying these were rational behaviors - but that's how much the book affected me. 

It's funny that I like mysteries so much. Mostly they seem like fiction to me - not that things like that don't happen in real life. I did have a time when I was reading a lot of Agatha Christie and Ray was traveling. I had to stop because her books were too scary to read when I was all by myself. For some reason Mary Higgins Clark's books seem a little too real also and I don't really enjoy her books because of that. 

I guess this is all my way of explaining why the beginning of The Graveyard Book was scary to me. It is nothing like In Cold Blood, but somehow it brought back from the shadows of my mind the feelings I had while reading In Cold Blood. After the first little bit of The Graveyard Book all those feelings went away. Well, most of them went away. Until I was reading the really suspenseful parts; then a few of those feelings came creeping back.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

The Graveyard Book is this year's Newbery Award winner. I think I own all but about five of the Newbery Award winning books. Most of them I've really liked, some of them have been okay, and there are one or two I strongly disliked.

Here's how reading this book went:
pages 1-9: scared the pants off me
pages 10-25: trying to decide if I should keep reading the book, or if it would be too scary for me

I ultimately decided to keep reading (in daylight, when I wasn't alone). Many people will scoff and laugh at me that I scare too easily. That's probably true, but I am not alone in my fears, and the beginning of this book might be very intense for some young readers. The rest of the book was great - with some quite suspenseful parts. The characters are well drawn, and the story well woven. I do recommend it, but if your children are sensitive, you may want to read it with them, or read it before them to know what they are getting into. Harry Potter has scarier parts once the book gets going, but this one starts out with a bang. Or at least it did for me.

The Female Brain by Louann Brizendine, MD

A friend of mine recommended this book. She said she got it to learn about what her teenage daughter was going through, and found it was more help for herself.

I'm not big on technical writing, and Brizendine does a good job of putting things in laymen's terms. She also uses a lot of case examples, which makes the information easier to grasp, and interesting. 

As I read each phase of the development of the female brain, I thought, "My girls who have baby girls should read this." Then I thought, "Anyone who has a teenage girl should read this." Then I thought, "My girls who are pregnant/new moms should read this." Then I thought, "She's seeing into my own brain!"

I got the book from the library, but I'm contemplating buying my own copy for reference. I think anyone with daughters should read this and Mary Pipher's Reviving Ophelia. 

A casual conversation

Lunch time at my house today:

Austin: I saw Cosmo today.

Me: (knowing he didn't) You did?

Austin: Yes. My mommy was at the hospital, and I went to the volleyball game. It was fun.

The boy has the memory of an elephant; just not the correct adverbs to put time in correct perspective.

Paper or ... digital?

As soon as I got into the library I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I got a whiff of the leather on all the old books, a smell that got real strong if you picked one of them up and stuck your nose real close to it when you turned the pages. Then there was the smell of the cloth that covered the brand-new books, the books that made a splitting sound when you opened them. Then I could sniff the paper, that soft, powdery, drowsy smell that comes off the pages in little puffs when you're reading something or looking at some pictures, a kind of hypnotizing smell.

-- Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis, p. 54 (2000 Newbery Medal Winner)

When I first read that passage, it was as if Curtis was looking directly into my memories. That's exactly how I remembered the library I used to go to as a young girl.  My mother would take me there, and I recall her pointing out books she thought I might like. I think I liked them all. It was especially thrilling when she'd say, "I think you might be ready for this book now." Then I knew I was moving up in the reading world. 

Once I was old enough to ride my bike to the library, that's what I did. I'm trying to think how far away it would have been from my house. Perhaps two or three miles. I would go every two weeks (that's how long a book could be checked out for). I'd pile the books on the back of my bike and strap them on. Then I'd ride to the library, and turn them all in. I'd browse the stacks, savoring all the possibilities. Eventually I would choose my books. I'd get two or three new books, and two or three that I'd already read (just like visiting a good friend often). I'd ride home, and devour the books. I repeated the process every two weeks. I was beside myself if I didn't have something on hand to read. Luckily we had a lot of books at home also. I went to the library like that for a long time. 

Reading to me is not just visual, it's tactile also. I love the feel of a book in my hands. I prefer the weight and substance of a hardback, but a paperback will do just fine. I enjoy the feel of the paper. In hardbacks there is more variety of paper, and more chance for a great feeling paper. I notice the font and layout of a book too. The smell of each book is distinctive. I don't put my nose right to the book, but I can't help noticing the smell. Old books' and new books' odors are vastly different. The binding makes a difference too. All these are subtle things that add to my reading experience with each book. 

For Mother's Day (a little early), Ray gave me a Kindle. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's an electronic book - sort of. You can download books and read them on the Kindle (go check it out at Amazon - it's hard for me to explain). Sort of like a hand-held computer, but just books, magazines and newspapers. It's the ideal solution for me for travelling. I'm not going to lie - when I travel, about half the weight of my luggage is the books I bring along. After all, what would happen if I ran out of reading material !!?? Now I can have all those books in one lightweight, fits-in-my-purse Kindle.  

I've regarded the Kindle with not a little trepidation. So this week I jumped in and read a book on it (Wormwood). Here's my evaluation: I liked it. It will never replace a real book, but I did find it easy to use and easy to read. There are a couple of things I don't care for. There are no page numbers, just the percentage you've completed reading. I like to know right where I am in a book. Depending on the book, I may want to slow down and have it last a little longer, or I might try to rush and get the last part done quickly. It's hard to gauge that on the Kindle. Also, I am a very visual person. When I read a book, I see it's cover and author every time I pick up the book. That is one way I remember if I've read a book, and it is for sure what helps me remember who wrote it. Sometimes when I'm searching for a book on my shelves I'll know to look for a yellow spine, or a certain font in the title, etc. With the Kindle you don't see the cover except when you first start the book. 

The Kindle won't replace reading a real book for me. Luckily, it doesn't have to. I have room in my life for both. I will enjoy having many reading options in one small package when I travel.  And I can enjoy the full experience of a real book the rest of the time.

The best part about the Kindle: it is so easy to hold hands with Ray while I'm reading. I don't have to let go of his hand to turn the page!

Wormwood by Susan Wittig Albert

This is the latest in the China Bayles series. These books have been consistently very good.