...I was going to quote this famous poem by this poet for this post. I was just thinking of it in terms of wishing I had made some different choices in my youth. Instead, I am now having to deal with and accept the fact that my body just isn't going to do what it could have years ago.
So I looked up the poem and read it and I'm thinking, oh yes, this will be good.
And then I read some of the commentary about what certain words meant in Victorian times and decided... nah, I'm not gonna do that. Instead, I'll stick with the metaphor my doctor used... the age old story of the tortoise and the hare.
At 20something, if I had decided I was going to work hard to get into shape, I could have worked out hard and often and seen quick results.
At 40something, I decided to work hard to get into shape. My body screamed NO WAY in the form of shin splints and a painful knee. I talked to the chiropractor about the shin splints and came up with a plan. I talked to the doctor about the knee and he obliterated my plan.
No jumping jacks.
No jumping rope.
No lunges.
No daily exercise.
Now, this wouldn't be necessary if I was already accustomed to exercising. It's the fact that I am 44 and grossly out of shape combined that are making my knee hurt. There is no specific injury to it. It is just getting worn out. Nothing is going to change that.
Instead, here is my new plan: Aleve once a day while the knee hurts. Once the knee stops hurting, I can do fitness walking for 10 minutes at a time, three times per week.
30 minutes a week for cardio.
If I do that for a month and my knee doesn't hurt, I can add two minutes to each session. Two minutes. Not five. Definitely not ten. I'm not strictly limited to walking. Dr. LUE says that (for me) legs are for walking, stationary bikes, elliptical trainers (maybe), and swimming.
This new plan is depressing. I need to lose weight and exercise because I am not feeling well and a number of the issues that are contributing to that are weight/fitness related. I want to make some good progress--NOW. But Dr. LUE says that I need to look at the long term picture. I need to be the tortoise, not the hare.
So if you see a tortoise gathering rosebuds by the side of the road... that will be me. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sleeping with Bread: Memories
Today.
Sleeping with Bread day.
I did not want to write a post today. I had a migraine yesterday. I actually woke up and couldn't see straight because of the aura I get right as a migraine is starting. THAT is a bummer of a way to begin the day. It was also my second migraine in just a few days and it takes a while for me to get back to a state of equilibrium after that.
BUT...
I am trying to be more consistent in my SWB posts... in posting in general so I am going to try to write something coherent. Bear with me.
I think as I look back over the past week, memories have brought me both consolation and desolation.
With all the coverage of Michael Jackson's death, I've been revisiting some unresolved issues from my past. I know... that sounds a little weird. It's just one of those tangential things. It isn't Mr. Jackson's death itself. It's the wondering about his life and what you make of it and then thinking about other people's lives and wondering what to make of them. Some dead Greek guy once said something to the effect that you should not judge a man's life happy until the end of his days. Along those lines, I'm wondering how you judge a man's life at the end of his days. As people debate the true legacy that Michael Jackson leaves behind, I've been thinking about a person in my life. He died a long time ago and I will not go into the details here, but I STILL do not know what to do with his life... was he a good person? a bad person? a victim? someone who victimized others? all of the above? none of the above? The reality is that I will probably NEVER be able to sort all that out. Never. But it HAS been on my mind this week and it makes me sad.
Still, remembrances of the past, have also been pleasant this week. On Saturday night, I went to go hear some friends perform at a local restaurant. My husband was playing guitar for them and one of Marley's teachers joined me for a grown up night out. The band that followed them, a group called The Sorries, includes a number of acquaintances. The drummer was the first person who lived with our family when we moved into this house. He needed a place to stay for a few weeks and that turned into a few months. He was a great guy. He still is. He plays drums for our church once in a while but I had not seen him in a band-type setting for a long time. He reminded me of our first months in this house, my son before he started school, our dog (Bob!), and my job working with college students at the church.
The bass player was part of a band that Paul and I both enjoyed very much. They were great musicians, FUN (FUN!!!) guys, intelligent. That band broke up and the guys--for the most part--got married and "settled" down. The bass player reminded me of the community of musicians that we knew for a long time. So much talent, but more importantly, so many good people. People who cared about others, were creative, and enjoyed life.
Finally, the guitar player is someone I've known since he was starting high school. His family was part of our small group from church for years. This small group was such a joy for our family. Although we journeyed together through many sorrows, there were also many celebrations. There was such an acceptance amongst this group of people. There is a passage in the Bible that often gets quoted to describe the ideal Christian community and our small group embodied many of these characteristics:
They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. (Acts 2:42-47)
What fun it was to be reminded of all those people and experiences just by watching one band perform!
Thanks for reading my ramblings, which may or may not have made any sense!
There are other Sleeping with Bread posts to be found here.
Sleeping with Bread day.
I did not want to write a post today. I had a migraine yesterday. I actually woke up and couldn't see straight because of the aura I get right as a migraine is starting. THAT is a bummer of a way to begin the day. It was also my second migraine in just a few days and it takes a while for me to get back to a state of equilibrium after that.
BUT...
I am trying to be more consistent in my SWB posts... in posting in general so I am going to try to write something coherent. Bear with me.
I think as I look back over the past week, memories have brought me both consolation and desolation.
With all the coverage of Michael Jackson's death, I've been revisiting some unresolved issues from my past. I know... that sounds a little weird. It's just one of those tangential things. It isn't Mr. Jackson's death itself. It's the wondering about his life and what you make of it and then thinking about other people's lives and wondering what to make of them. Some dead Greek guy once said something to the effect that you should not judge a man's life happy until the end of his days. Along those lines, I'm wondering how you judge a man's life at the end of his days. As people debate the true legacy that Michael Jackson leaves behind, I've been thinking about a person in my life. He died a long time ago and I will not go into the details here, but I STILL do not know what to do with his life... was he a good person? a bad person? a victim? someone who victimized others? all of the above? none of the above? The reality is that I will probably NEVER be able to sort all that out. Never. But it HAS been on my mind this week and it makes me sad.
Still, remembrances of the past, have also been pleasant this week. On Saturday night, I went to go hear some friends perform at a local restaurant. My husband was playing guitar for them and one of Marley's teachers joined me for a grown up night out. The band that followed them, a group called The Sorries, includes a number of acquaintances. The drummer was the first person who lived with our family when we moved into this house. He needed a place to stay for a few weeks and that turned into a few months. He was a great guy. He still is. He plays drums for our church once in a while but I had not seen him in a band-type setting for a long time. He reminded me of our first months in this house, my son before he started school, our dog (Bob!), and my job working with college students at the church.
The bass player was part of a band that Paul and I both enjoyed very much. They were great musicians, FUN (FUN!!!) guys, intelligent. That band broke up and the guys--for the most part--got married and "settled" down. The bass player reminded me of the community of musicians that we knew for a long time. So much talent, but more importantly, so many good people. People who cared about others, were creative, and enjoyed life.
Finally, the guitar player is someone I've known since he was starting high school. His family was part of our small group from church for years. This small group was such a joy for our family. Although we journeyed together through many sorrows, there were also many celebrations. There was such an acceptance amongst this group of people. There is a passage in the Bible that often gets quoted to describe the ideal Christian community and our small group embodied many of these characteristics:
They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe, and many wonders and miraculous signs were done by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved. (Acts 2:42-47)
What fun it was to be reminded of all those people and experiences just by watching one band perform!
Thanks for reading my ramblings, which may or may not have made any sense!
*************************
There are other Sleeping with Bread posts to be found here.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Sleeping with Bread: Sourdough
As faithfully as I have published regular host posts at the Sleeping with Bread blog, I have not posted often my own Sleeping with Bread reflections. There are a number of reason for this. . . Twitter and Facebook distract me. . . I feel like I've been repeating myself. . . and physically, I've been in a funk for a long time. While I can breeze through Twitter and Facebook updates, writing authentic reflective pieces has been difficult.
Tonight, though, I am challenging myself to write this post before heading over to the SWB blog to write the host post. I'm feeling a little less funkish tonight. It is a beautiful breezy, cool night here. My husband is back in town after a long business trip. There was a good sermon on discipleship at church this morning. I've been inspired by reading about the life of Simone Weil. Whatever the reason, I am up for this task tonight. So here I go:
In the last however long, what has caused you desolation?
My Body, My Self. Working against the weight I've gained, the continued struggle against the infernal CPAP machine, middle-age hormones running amok all contribute to feeling like I'm going through my days trying to walk quickly through quicksand. The hormones have been bad enough that I'm actually thinking how nice a hysterectomy would be. This coming from the woman whose always believed that hysterectomies are often unnecessary and should only be a last resort. Now? Getting rid of that thing sounds like a nice idea sometimes.
She's not my little girl any more. I've also been experiencing some grief--that maternal grief that comes as you watch your children grow up. Marley has moved from being a little girl to a full-fledged tween. Her body, her face, her words, her humor... all of it is changing and I just want it to stop. I don't feel quite ready for all of this. This grief has probably been accentuated by the fact that she just finished her last year in her multiage classroom. Instead of just leaving third grade to go to fourth grade, she left the classroom, teachers, and classmates that she has been with for four years. It seems to throw the changes she is experiencing into greater relief.
How clean is your house? Well, I think those British ladies from the television show would have a heyday in my house. We are a family of sloths and there are too many other things I'd rather pay attention to. Still, my house is messy/dirty enough that it is not conducive to getting school work done, having people over, just feeling like I can really relax in my home. This problem is very closely related to the feeling-like-cr*p problem.
Wah, wah, wah. . . Let's take a look at something positive. . .
In the last however long, what has given you consolation?
Twitter! I know, I know, it doesn't make sense. However, through Twitter, I am able to connect with people and have some fun conversations. Seriously. There are a few of my Twitter friends--I hesitate to call them Tweeps--who I get to spend part of any given day or evening chatting about recipes, television shows, child rearing, etc. The long ago phenomena of neighbors talking to each other over their backyard fences is what I get out of Twitter. I actually enjoy it more than Facebook connecting. Hi Twitter friends! XXX OOO
Today's church service. I don't end up sitting in the church service all that often. It's one part working in the nursery and one part being too lazy to get myself there. Today, though, everything lined up. I was ready on time. I wasn't schedule to work in the nursery. The worship was wonderful and the sermon challenging. (According to my son, it was too intellectual and academic, but hey, I kind of like that approach.)
My living room is clean! I marshalled the LUE family troops and we picked up the living room, pulled off the couch cushions and cleaned out all the junk, moved the couches and cleaned underneath them, swept and cleaned the floors and put it all back together. How is it that cleaning what you cannot see can make you feel better? I don't know but it does. I am sitting in my living room as I type and it FEELS good. One room down, eight to go.
The weather. My favorite times of the year in California are at the turns of the seasons. When the air is crisp, either from beginning to cool down or beginning to warm up. We are having warm days but the mornings and evenings are cool. It is so nice to have the doors open, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, feeling the breeze. So peaceful. Ahhhh. . .
The Dreaded Shred. I started working out to Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred video two nights ago. It hurts and it's hard. I decided to do it weeks ago but it took this long to get going. I am doing it with a friend. We live too far apart to actually do it together, but we are connecting with each other for accountability. I don't know if I am actually feeling physically better from just two days or if I am just feeling better because I am finally doing something. I'll take it, either way.
And finally. . .
Reading! I finished one book on my summer reading list and am in the middle of an introduction to works and life of Simone Weil. She was a fascinating person. There are some ways in which she reminds me of Vincent Van Gogh. They both had this intensity, passion for the poor, and a ability to withstand physical suffering. So far, the excerpts of her readings have been very interesting (She had some interesting points of views on rights/obligations.) and when my intellectual juices get going, it gives me energy. Reading just the excerpts while reading about her life makes it all much more accessible. I'm bright enough, but no intellectual giant.
So, I start a week actually having done my spiritual bread baking! Now, I'm off to get into my exercise gear. The Shred awaits.
Tonight, though, I am challenging myself to write this post before heading over to the SWB blog to write the host post. I'm feeling a little less funkish tonight. It is a beautiful breezy, cool night here. My husband is back in town after a long business trip. There was a good sermon on discipleship at church this morning. I've been inspired by reading about the life of Simone Weil. Whatever the reason, I am up for this task tonight. So here I go:
In the last however long, what has caused you desolation?
My Body, My Self. Working against the weight I've gained, the continued struggle against the infernal CPAP machine, middle-age hormones running amok all contribute to feeling like I'm going through my days trying to walk quickly through quicksand. The hormones have been bad enough that I'm actually thinking how nice a hysterectomy would be. This coming from the woman whose always believed that hysterectomies are often unnecessary and should only be a last resort. Now? Getting rid of that thing sounds like a nice idea sometimes.
She's not my little girl any more. I've also been experiencing some grief--that maternal grief that comes as you watch your children grow up. Marley has moved from being a little girl to a full-fledged tween. Her body, her face, her words, her humor... all of it is changing and I just want it to stop. I don't feel quite ready for all of this. This grief has probably been accentuated by the fact that she just finished her last year in her multiage classroom. Instead of just leaving third grade to go to fourth grade, she left the classroom, teachers, and classmates that she has been with for four years. It seems to throw the changes she is experiencing into greater relief.
How clean is your house? Well, I think those British ladies from the television show would have a heyday in my house. We are a family of sloths and there are too many other things I'd rather pay attention to. Still, my house is messy/dirty enough that it is not conducive to getting school work done, having people over, just feeling like I can really relax in my home. This problem is very closely related to the feeling-like-cr*p problem.
Wah, wah, wah. . . Let's take a look at something positive. . .
In the last however long, what has given you consolation?
Twitter! I know, I know, it doesn't make sense. However, through Twitter, I am able to connect with people and have some fun conversations. Seriously. There are a few of my Twitter friends--I hesitate to call them Tweeps--who I get to spend part of any given day or evening chatting about recipes, television shows, child rearing, etc. The long ago phenomena of neighbors talking to each other over their backyard fences is what I get out of Twitter. I actually enjoy it more than Facebook connecting. Hi Twitter friends! XXX OOO
Today's church service. I don't end up sitting in the church service all that often. It's one part working in the nursery and one part being too lazy to get myself there. Today, though, everything lined up. I was ready on time. I wasn't schedule to work in the nursery. The worship was wonderful and the sermon challenging. (According to my son, it was too intellectual and academic, but hey, I kind of like that approach.)
My living room is clean! I marshalled the LUE family troops and we picked up the living room, pulled off the couch cushions and cleaned out all the junk, moved the couches and cleaned underneath them, swept and cleaned the floors and put it all back together. How is it that cleaning what you cannot see can make you feel better? I don't know but it does. I am sitting in my living room as I type and it FEELS good. One room down, eight to go.
The weather. My favorite times of the year in California are at the turns of the seasons. When the air is crisp, either from beginning to cool down or beginning to warm up. We are having warm days but the mornings and evenings are cool. It is so nice to have the doors open, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, feeling the breeze. So peaceful. Ahhhh. . .
The Dreaded Shred. I started working out to Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred video two nights ago. It hurts and it's hard. I decided to do it weeks ago but it took this long to get going. I am doing it with a friend. We live too far apart to actually do it together, but we are connecting with each other for accountability. I don't know if I am actually feeling physically better from just two days or if I am just feeling better because I am finally doing something. I'll take it, either way.
And finally. . .
Reading! I finished one book on my summer reading list and am in the middle of an introduction to works and life of Simone Weil. She was a fascinating person. There are some ways in which she reminds me of Vincent Van Gogh. They both had this intensity, passion for the poor, and a ability to withstand physical suffering. So far, the excerpts of her readings have been very interesting (She had some interesting points of views on rights/obligations.) and when my intellectual juices get going, it gives me energy. Reading just the excerpts while reading about her life makes it all much more accessible. I'm bright enough, but no intellectual giant.
So, I start a week actually having done my spiritual bread baking! Now, I'm off to get into my exercise gear. The Shred awaits.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Look who I met!
I finally got to meet a blogger buddy! I've always been a little envious when I've read about the different bloggers I read meeting up in groups of two and more. I've never even been to a BlogHer conference. Today, though, after several weeks and a few Facebook exchanges, Riley over at All Rileyed Up and I met for lunch... That would be Ruby of Ruby's Diner in the picture with us. She didn't have much to say... or maybe Riley and I were monopolizing the conversation.
As much as I've always wanted to meet some of my blogger friends, I will confess to having some anxiety worthy of a teenage girl before a first date at the thought sometimes. "What if they like the blogger me better than the real me?" "Will we have anything to talk about?" "Am I cool enough?" Those anxieties were pretty much in check before Riley and I met up. I think because we just live about a half hour apart from each other. I don't know. Maybe I just knew that it would work out all right.
And it did.
We talked about life (current circumstances, kids, spouses), the universe (from education to parenting philosophies), and everything (how long have you been blogging, etc.) I can say that I really enjoyed talking with her and getting to know her in person. Sadly, she is moving out of the area soon, but I have hopes that on some of her trips back to the area to visit family, we might get together again.
Who's next? Now that I've got one meet and greet under my belt, I am ready for more!
Friday, May 29, 2009
The Story of Mary and Mr. LUE
Once upon time there was a girl--who loved to read books--and a boy--who loved to play guitar.
They were both young and stupid and lived in So-So Cal.
They got together.
He played guitar. She read books.
They broke up.
He got a job. She dropped out of college.
They got together.
He played some more guitar and worked. She got a full-time job and read books.
They broke up.
He moved away to the land of 10 gallon hats. She kept working and moving from apartment to apartment to apartment. Her friends never wrote her address in their address books in ink.
They started talking about getting back together with the added idea of getting married.
He brought her a pretty sapphire ring. She moved to the land of 10 gallon hats.
They decided to get married by a local justice of the peace instead of having a wedding back in So-So Cal. There was no money and neither of them was interested in getting up in front of a bunch of people to say their vows.
They went back to So-So Cal for a wedding reception in her aunt’s backyard. Her mom’s friend made the cake. Her uncle’s Vo Tech high school class printed the invitations. Her family made the food.
While he moved up the professional electronics sales ladder, she completed her literary studies degree.
They got a dog who would give the cinematic dog, Marley, a run for his money. His name was Bob.
They moved back to So-So Cal.
They had a baby. She stayed at home. He traveled.
A bunch of other stuff happened. Some good. Some bad. Some happy. Some sad.
She worked at the church. He played guitar for the church.
Eight years later they had another baby.
More stuff happened. Some good. Some bad. Some happy. Some sad.
He is still working in the professional electronics industry and playing guitar. She went back to school to learn how to teach people to read.
What’s next? Who knows, but I bet there’ll be some guitar playing and reading going on.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Nurses in Vietnam: A LUE Rerun
This post is published in lieu of a Sleeping with Bread post.
I went poking about my archives today looking for something to republish in honor of Memorial Day. (I'm too irritable to write a fresh post.) I've written several posts about Vietnam. My uncle served there and--whether it is just this connection or something else--the subject of the Vietnam War just draws me in. I chose this post, about the nurses who served there, because: a) Those nurses are worth remembering; and b) It seems there has been a lot of talk about feminism on the 'Net relating to mommybloggers and Facebook and blah, blah, blah. Instead of writing a post about whether or not Betty Friedan would be turning over in her grave because women use pictures of their children as their Facebook avatars, I will republish this post about some women who did incredible things, under horrible conditions, in spite of what people thought they could and should do.
Originally published August 24, 2006:
This past weekend, a documentary aired about women nurses in Vietnam. It coincided with the station's airing of China Beach, an early 90's drama about women in Vietnam. I have had an interest in the women veterans of that war since reading Home Before Morning by Lynda VanDevanter for my American history class at UTD and because my uncle served in Vietnam in the early 70's. After watching the documentary, I knew I wanted to write about it here but I feel at a loss as to what to say.
The women featured in the documentary and in the book, Home Before Morning, experienced a year in hell. Most of them were less than one year out of nursing school and in their late teens or early twenties. They were often promised that if they joined the military they wouldn't be sent anywhere dangerous. Some of them signed up specifically for duty in Vietnam. I remember one nurse saying that her father, a non-demonstrative man, gave her the biggest hug ever as she left and said brokenly, "I have four sons but it is my daughter I am sending into war."1
Upon arriving in Vietnam, their lives turned absolutely upside down. Spending 10-14 hours on a shift, steeped in blood, often without the proper supplies, American nurses in Vietnam worked with doctors in a way that was not common in the states. The doctor's had to depend on them and give them more responsibility than they would have been given in the states and they met that challenge heroically. More than one nurse has recounted encountering a burned soldier, holding his hand or touching his arm, only to have his blackened flesh come off with her hand. Chest wounds with shredded hearts and legs hanging by a tendon were amongst other common casualties. It wasn't unheard of for a nurse to perform an amputation. Sometimes the best they could do was reassure a soldier that he was in good hands knowing that soldier would probably die. When they were off duty, the women nurses played hard just like the men. Anything to shut out the horror that had just been and would be again soon.
After returning from being "in-country," the nurses were in a different situation than the male veterans. While the men also had a difficult time adjusting, they had each other as they continued their terms in the military or they were better able to connect with each other more easily. Of the thousands of thousands of men who served, only about 5,000 women were there so they were more isolated from each other upon returning to the states. Typically, they had no one to talk to who could understand their experiences. Their families usually didn't ask or want to hear about life there. They expected their daughter or sister back as they remembered her not the utterly broken woman who was returned to them. These nurses experienced post-traumatic stress disorder like the men veterans did, but it was much longer before it was recognized in them.
If they continued to nurse, they found themselves in a subservient position without the respect of the doctor's they worked with and they were not allowed to use any of the more advanced skills and training they learned in Vietnam. I remember in her book, Lynda Van Devanter eventually found her way into emergency dialysis nursing. Routine nursing was not for her. Emergency nursing provided the same burst of adrenaline that she experienced during her tour and emergency dialysis required incredible skill.
As I watched the documentary it reminded me of the interview portions of Band of Brothers. Sixty years later, the veterans of Easy Company still are haunted by the horrors of World War II. Over thirty years later, these nurses are no different and still have nightmares, deal with depression, and still have questions about why the war happened and how they ended up there. Eventually, more and more nurses received help. Lynda Van Devanter herself was instrumental in raising awareness of the particular issues of women veterans. Many people worked together to honor these women and their service and in the early 90's the Women's Vietnam Memorial was erected. I hope to visit it someday.2
Who's to say why one issue, topic or story strikes a chord that resonates more than another? There are so many stories of hardship and horror, recovery and redemption out there. Why did this one affect me so much? As I said, my uncle served in Vietnam. In the few years before he died, he opened up more about that experience. Knowing and loving someone who was there is probably part of the reason. Reading about Lynda Van Devanter's experience also impacted me greatly. But there is something greater about their words, their faces, their tears that makes my heart ache and I can't express it any more clearly than that.
Here are just a few links available about nurses in Vietnam.
The Women of the Army Nurse Corp During the Vietnam War
Jeanne Diebolt's Keynote Address at the Women's Memorial
Nurses and the Daily Horror of Vietnam (This is the article which discusses the documentary I mentioned.)
I wrote about my Uncle L.T. here and here and here.
1. The words of the father in this story are paraphrased.
2. I did get to go see the Vietnam Nurses' Memorial in January, 2008.
Note: I did a little editing of this post for clarity/wordiness. (Yes, it was worse before the editing!)
Saturday, May 23, 2009
My Summer Reading List
Books I want to read this summer, in no particular order:
Crossed Wires by Rosy Thornton
Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery (read w/Marley)
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (No sparkly vampires for me)
Wrestling with God by Simone Weil (an introductory text)
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (I put it on my Amazon.com shopping list but can't remember why.)
Creating Robust Vocabulary by a bunch of Ph.Ds (I just came across this book in a professional journal and am curious about their instructional strategies. Vocabulary development is HUGE for college developmental readers.)
The Ten Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer (for Book Club 2 this Thursday)
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving (for Book Club 1 next week; haven't read an Irving in AGES)
I don't know that I'll get all that read. I have a lot of cuddling with Marley to do... and laundry... and grocery shopping... and housecleaning... and exercising... and more to do. AND, in June I am writing my Master's project. I will have more reading to do for that, although quite a bit of it is re-reading.
Any other recommendations?
Crossed Wires by Rosy Thornton
Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery (read w/Marley)
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (No sparkly vampires for me)
Wrestling with God by Simone Weil (an introductory text)
Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (I put it on my Amazon.com shopping list but can't remember why.)
Creating Robust Vocabulary by a bunch of Ph.Ds (I just came across this book in a professional journal and am curious about their instructional strategies. Vocabulary development is HUGE for college developmental readers.)
The Ten Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer (for Book Club 2 this Thursday)
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving (for Book Club 1 next week; haven't read an Irving in AGES)
I don't know that I'll get all that read. I have a lot of cuddling with Marley to do... and laundry... and grocery shopping... and housecleaning... and exercising... and more to do. AND, in June I am writing my Master's project. I will have more reading to do for that, although quite a bit of it is re-reading.
Any other recommendations?
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