Book Reviews

Sometimes I wonder why I even try to read contemporary literary fiction.  I have zero patience for reading about moody, dysfunctional characters in sad, hopeless, real-life situations. I just want to smack them. Therefore, I rarely pick up art-type fiction that looks like it might be too depressing or disturbing.  I tried reading Adverbs recently by Daniel Handler (aka Lemony Snickett) but had to put it aside - too many self-centered people (well actually, the same people, different settings) in dire need of a good head smack.  I never could get through the Lemony Snickett books (for children!) either - though the unfortunate Baudelaire children did try mightily, I found it way too frustrating that they could NEVER CATCH A BREAK.  A Series of Unfortunate Events is certainly a wonderful read, but so freaking frustrating!



So anyway, imagine my delight at picking up The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern and falling solidly in love with a book again.  I admit to hesitancy in cracking this one open as circuses and Claudia do NOT mix.  [I totally blame Hoxie Brothers and a certain aunt who shall remain nameless for my long-standing circus-horror ("Come on, Claud, let's take the kids to the circus - it'll be fun!).  Right - clowns, sad, smelly, large animals.  I became deathly ill from circus germs and had to miss The Who concert.  No fun at all.] 

The Night Circus, however, is a whole other beautiful something and deserves its own essay space.  Tomorrow, I promise. --cds

Cool Weather

The baby is getting big!  Eighteen months old already this month.  My favorite Ruthanne story this week involves Josh going into her room Sunday morning and finding her completely out of her jammies.  Wouldn't you just love to have watched the baby gymnastics involved in her unzipping and wiggling herself out of her footie-jammie sleepers? 

I'm swimming this morning, I don't care if the temp is only 57.  I've missed about 5 days in a row while our cool front blew through.  I must be brave - I'm a Vermonter, I'm a Vermonter, I'm a Vermonter.  Brrrrrr.  --cds

Well, This Is New

 I know I have made this bread recipe before, but this is the first time such a thing as this has occurred. 

The dough started to ribbon out of the top of the covered pan like lava, but stopped when it reached the racks and baked itself.

The pan is a 9-inch pain de mie pan from King Arthur - makes a nice square loaf for easy slicing and a not-too-thick crust.  I thought that the dough was stickier than usual, but it rose well so I figured it would be fine.  Aside from the lava flow, the loaf baked just fine and tasted delicious - the recipe is a little more buttery and sweet than most bread recipes.

I can't say enough good things about King Arthur bread pans.  These are heavy, ridged and the bread just falls out of the pan.  Why I don't bake every day or so is a mystery.  Well, I suppose because I would start to look like the Doughgirl, so perhaps that's not the best idea.  --cds

Exercise Nuttiness

I've been attuned lately to people's exercise routines, some of which seem strange to me.  I am most definitely not disparaging any of these efforts (I swim at 6:30 a.m. in 56 degree air temps, for goodness sakes - crazy!), but some are....  strange. 

A guy just walked by our house bouncing a tennis ball in front of him as he walked - that takes much coordination, I imagine.  I'd be chasing the ball in the grass half the time. There is another guy who criss-crosses the street as he walks along - by the time he's past my house he has zig-zagged three times across the road.  Maximizes his walk somehow, I guess (but why not just walk farther in a straight line?).  I get a kick out of the guy who bikes around the compound wearing all of his topnotch biking gear - helmut, spandex, gloves, mirrors - impressive, but our streets are very residential-y.  More the granny-on-the-fat-tire-Schwinn type of biking.  Most of the women walk in fun-looking chat-groups, loud and laughy.  The weight room attracts the hard-core treadmillers and machine-savvy exercisers.  Not my favorite sort of place as it gives me creepy flashbacks to the early 70's and a short membership at an Elaine Powers Figure Salon where women in Danskin leotards jiggled in those belt and roller machines.

I'm sticking with my morning swim.  The mist rises off the water as I do my laps, I can watch the birds waking up and the pretty sunrises, and I have the pool all to myself.  Relaxing, healthy, and only a little nutty.  --cds

That's A Big Gingerbread House

Last weekend we stopped by DisneyWorld to check out the Christmas decorations at the hotels along the monorail route.  The gingerbread house at The Grand Floridian is pretty impressive.

I would like to have this Cinderella's-pumpkin-carriage-carpet in my bedroom at home, thank you very much.

Riding down the birdcage elevator.

Afternoon refreshment at the Polynesian pool bar.

One of these evenings soon we'll visit the Magic Kingdom to view the fireworks.  I hear the castle is draped in white lights to look like ice.  Our little community here in retiree-ville is in full outdoor decoration mode.  Hideousness abounds.  I will get pictures.  --cds

Christmas Decorating

Welcome!

Christmas decorating commences.  I think every electrical outlet in this house is now dedicated to some sort of decoration.  Whatever -- makes me happy.  The downtown village is set up in the front window this year. 

This is either Stowe or Park City.

And an aerial view of the corner gas station selling Christmas trees.

Vintage-y snowman stuff.

Vintage aqua Shiny Brites.

White sparkle tree and Yankee Candle (Home for the Holidays) and, um... a glass of wine to decorate by.

Today I have to rest up from all that decorating.  My next door neighbor is baking cookies which will help with my recuperation, I'm sure.  --cds

December Already.

I love the days when I get to talk to all three grandgirls in the same evening.   Well, actually Miss Ruthie isn't talking to me all that much just yet, but I understand she gives the phone big kisses.

She prefers, as does most of the younger generation, to text instead.

Most evenings Isabella does her homework via Skype - she's pretty good about staying on task and plowing through her math worksheets.  The day will soon arrive, though, when her work surpasses my puny math skills.  I struggle not to show fear of the math.

Evie and I Skype as well - she usually colors and tells me about her day.  She's been practicing a verse to recite for her pre-school Christmas program.

Both girls are back in dance classes for the Fall.  So cute.

Christmas decorating will be completed today here at our Florida home because 'tis the season.  It's even chilly outside - I haven't been swimming for two days.  --cds