Merry Christmas To Me

As a Christmas present to myself, I finished reading the 60th book and made my goal.  60 books in 60 weeks.  Whew!  It was awesome.  And now I don't have to feel like I failed when I was so close I could taste it!  

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

I'm over and out until February sometime...  

Until then...

Blog on!

Procrastination

You know how I admitted defeat on my goal of reading 60 books by the end of the year?  Well, let's change that failure from -3 to -2, because I just finished reading About A Boy.  It was good.  And I'm sitting here thinking about all my cross-country, (sort-of), moving experience and wondering if I'm a big, fat failure in that department, too.  

I say Nay.  I still have six days to pull it all together. 

Pack kitchen.

Pack random crap that doesn't belong anywhere.

Clean.

See - the list really isn't so bad.  Maybe I can squeeze two more books in, after all.

Book Fail

It's official.  I failed.

Last November I set a goal to read sixty books by the end of 2010.  That amounted to a book a week.  I knew it was a bit of a stretch, but I figured that giving it a go couldn't be bad.  I read constantly over the last year.  Books I'd never heard of before, books that are classics that I'd never bothered with, books that I would never recommend to anyone, and everything in between.  

I've never read so much in my entire life.  The library became my favorite place in the world.  Especially my little small town library with the clock tower outside that chimed merrily every fifteen minutes and played a different tune at the top of every hour.  I loved the quiet, the smell of old paper, the time to myself to get lost in the possibility held in a million pages. 

And here we are on December 12th, 2010, and I am three books short of my goal.  But I know I won't be able to finish off three more.  I'm in the middle of moving, I have that huge personal history project for my step-grandma, homeschool, and Christmas is right around the corner.  Plus, you know, four kids and a husband to take care of.  

Part of me is really disappointed to be so close to accomplishing this goal and have it so out of reach.  I can't stand to leave things unfinished - it's one of my biggest pet peeves.  

But there is another part of me that is just really glad that I made it to 57 books.  My mind has been fed by many of them, I've been entertained by even the worst of them, and I feel like a more complete person with every book I finish.  All things considered, it's been a worthwhile journey, even if the final destination was never reached.  

Now I'm looking forward to next year and all the books that are waiting to be devoured. 

Here's a final list of what I read this year:

The Ultimate Gift by Jim Stovall

Love Is Eternal by Irving Stone

Can You Keep a Secret? by Sophie Kinsella

Cheaper By The Dozen by two Gilbraiths

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

The Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella

Fat Girl - A True Story by Judith Miller

The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

The Castaways by Elin Hildebrand

The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright

Belles On Their Toes by those Gilbraiths again

The Victory Club by Robin Lee Hatcher

Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella

Mistress of Mellyn by Victoria Holt

Dear John by Nicholas Sparks

The Best Little Girl In The World by Steven Levenkron

Life Laughs by Jenny McCarthy

Anne Frank Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank

J.K. Rowling the Wizard Behind Harry Potter by Marc Shapiro

Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis

The Pursuit of Happyness by Chris Gardner

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson

Danny The Champion of the World by Roald Dahl

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis

The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

The Duggars: 20 and Counting by Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar

The Confession by Beverly Lewis

Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella

Exploits of a Reluctant (But Extremely Good-Looking) Hero by Maureen Fergus

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

In Praise of Stay At Home Moms by Dr. Laura Schlessinger

The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson-Burnett

Post Mortem by Patricia Cornwell

The Truth About Stacy by Ann M. Martin

Shopaholic and Sister by Sophie Kinsella

Matilda by Roald Dahl

Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult

The Haunting by Joan Lowery Nixon

A Little Princess by Francis Hodgson-Burnett

I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

The Twits by Roald Dahl

The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger

The Four Story Mistake by Elizabeth Enright

How To Be Good by Nick Hornby

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

The BFG by Roald Dahl

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

The Chocolate Touch by Patrick Skene-Catling

Rumors of War by Dean Hughes

Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl

Collected Short Stories by Leo Tolstoy

Since You Went Away by Dean Hughes

And it was a good, good time.

Holiday Gift Guide - Children's Books

I love to read.  I have loved it since I was a child.  I keep hoping that my children will someday unlock the magic that is being consumed by a book, and love it as I do.  So I encourage them to read by introducing them to some favorites from my childhood.  If you're looking for some good books to give this Christmas, you've come to the right place.

Heckedy Peg by Don and Audrey Wood.

I suppose this book could be a bit scary if your kids are the mamsy-pamsy type, but if they can handle a witch story that comes out all right in the end, then they'll love this.  The pictures are amazing, and the story is phenomenal.  A poor woman leaves her seven children alone while she goes to town to buy them each a gift.  The children are tricked by a witch and she turns them all into food for her feast.  The poor mother must save her children by figuring out which child is which food.  Now that I've written that, it sounds a little odd.  But trust me, it's good.  Click the picture to read the Amazon.com reviews.  (For all these books.)

Roxaboxen by Alice Mclerran.

This book is pure, simple imagination. Childhood without gadgets.  Remember when kids had imagination?  Yeah. This book is about a group of kids who make an imaginary world in the hills near their houses.  It's completely told in a narrative from one of the women who lived it in real life. Just makes ya feel good.

For the Reluctant Reader, I recommend Shel Silverstein.  His big books of silly poems are perfect for a child's humor.  Unfortunately, my sons do not like to read - especially chapter books.  My oldest is discouraged just looking at page after page of words and long chapters.  But he will sit down with Where the Sidewalk Ends and devour poem after poem after poem and not realize that he has read the equivalent of a chapter from a larger, more daunting book.  And that's just fine with me.

And finally, ANYTHING by Roald Dahl.  Seriously, that man wrote for children.  He was a gift to the world of children's literature.  My boys LOVE his stories.  Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Witches, Matilda, The BFG, Danny Champion of the World, The Twits, George's Marvelous Medicine - you honestly can't go wrong.  To further prove the brilliance of Mr. Dahl, I present to you his poem about Television....

Television

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotized by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Roald Dahl

And now, I'm headed over to check out more childrens book recommendations on Mama M.'s Holiday Gift Guide.

*If you haven't already, be sure to enter my giveaway from Get Hooked Designs!*

Houston, We Have a Problem

I encourage my children to read, but this is going too far.

Ugh!

I just finished reading Life Laughs by Jenny McCarthy. I cannot even describe how horrible it was. Two chapters into it I wondered what the heck I was doing still reading it, but that's an issue I have. Once started, cannot stop. It was like watching a car accident. You know it's something you don't want to see, but you can't tear your eyes away.

This is one messed up chick. She is such a moron, I can't even decide which one of her issues is more alarming. I understand that she's trying to be funny, but it is just sad from beginning to end. Or, pathetic, rather.

If I could douche my brain after reading this, I would.

I really need to get past my obsessive need to finish books that I start. It's torture sometimes.

In Which I Potentially Offend 9 Out of 10 Readers

*This shall be an open discussion. I invite anyone on either side of the fence to state their views. also, I'm trying to spare feelings as best I can by discussing a certain behavior, not any certain persons.*

I was shopping at Winco a while back and I knew that I was facing a weekend with nothing to read and the library closed for a holiday, so I checked out what books they might have for me to buy. That's right, I said buy. As in purchase. Last time I did that - I don't even remember the last time I bought a book.

Aside from Danielle Steele, which isn't really my thing seeing as I get plenty turned on without having to read about other people doing it, the only thing they had that didn't involve religious stigmata, (also not my thing), was Twilight. I've read it before, of course, as have most females in America. It would be an easy read, finished quickly, just enough to get me through the weekend, so I bought it. But my feelings have not changed since I wrote this tidbit about freaks and are there really such things?

About a week after I finished reading Twilight, I saw a piece on an entertainment show late one night that reaffirmed my opinion that a huge portion of Twilight fans have taken their passion too far. There was a group of middle-aged women sitting on a couch, and they were telling an interviewer why they loved the series by Stephanie Meyer so much. One woman said, "It just makes you feel so...Happy!", and then she giggled like a 12 year-old. My thought was, "Her husband is a huge failure."

I could go off on a tangent right here about the possible reasons why more women are on anti-depressants in Utah than in any other state, but I shall refrain. Because I know a couple of people who are on them legitimately, as far as I know. I'm no doctor.

I understand the appeal of the book, to some extent. It is a good story. What I don't understand is public reaction to it. Everyone expects obsessive behavior from teenagers, but the Twilight series has become a major social fixation for women of more mature ages. Is it just the book? Is it the movie? Is it both? I've seen decals on people's car windows proclaiming love for Edward Cullen, I've seen women with teenage daughters of their own wearing t-shirts stating which team they are on; Edward or Jacob. I've heard of women who have vampire posters in their cubicles at work. And the list goes on... Is this type of feeling towards a book/movie healthy? Maybe there's nothing wrong with it?

When I was 16 or 17 I had a thing for Chris O'Donnell. I loved the Batman Forever movie so much that I talked my little brother into letting me have his Robin action figure, and I hung the plastic replica of my daydreams from the rear-view mirror in my Ford Aspire. He became a little soft and melty in the sun, but he spent a good three months in that sculpted pectoral shrine before he had shriveled like a metallic prune. So I'm not saying that I've never been a party to the behavior we're discussing, but I was much younger then. Currently, I do have a conceivably unhealthy affection for Willy Wonka . Both the wisdom of his imaginary person and his candy products. But for the most part, I keep it to myself and only think of it when I'm trying to decide between Nerds and Twizzlers at the grocery store.

For another example, the Harry Potter series also created a flurry of crazed fans...but it's not the same thing, I suppose. Is it because Harry Potter doesn't contain much romance? What exactly is the difference? Are there more examples of this kind of social phenomenon?

What I really want to know is this: Why is there so much hysteria over this book series? Yeah, it's an entertaining story, but what is the deal beyond that? Is it lust for the characters? Is it a secret wish that a reader could switch lives with the fictional heroine? An escape from real life that one is reluctant to leave? There are lots of amazing books out in the world, but I don't know of anyone so flustered and passionate about Shakespeare or Tolstoy pieces that it consumes a piece of their identity. I find myself perplexed by this behavior.

Theories? Thoughts?