The Gap of Time: A Review: By Jeanette Winterson

This book is a beautiful re-telling of 'The Winter's Tale.' Jeanette Winterson's beautiful voice and style shine through. I adore most of her books, so I was excited to receive this.

It's raw, highly emotional, highly sexually charged. It's choppy and disjointed, full of small beautiful things, bits and pieces of words that phrases that stick out in your mind. I haven't had a lot of time to read these days, but this was a great book to read during my limited free moments. The cyclical nature of our existence, the ebb and flow of time, love and passion and desire and anger. It’s all so human and so removed from reality. It’s really, quite beautiful and brings out all the feels.

I enjoyed the 'primer' in the beginning, giving you a little bit of feedback if you happen to not be familiar with the classic Shakespeare tale. I'm interested to see where the Hogarth Shakespeare series goes, because this is a helluva start.

To the boy with the knives at 2 AM, smoking a cigarette by the arborvitae and dreaming big dreams.

It takes a helluva lot of inner fortitude to stay driven and motivated to succeed when the person who unequivocally is supposed to have your back thinks what you are doing is a waste of time.
I allow myself one night of feeling sorry and sad.
Now, I push back harder, work harder, do more.
I will not allow grasping at straws to stop me, simply because what I am passionate about, what I have chosen, doesn't fit his schema.
This world we build together must make us both happy andh satisfied.
No, I don't think you or they are roadblocks.
Yes, I think we, both, can have it all.
But you don't get to dictate what that means for me, simply because you don't understand it.
I never took you for such a misogynist.
I never thought I'd feel so lost and saddened by your silly, stupid words.
I hope you see the bigger picture, and not the short term.
You cannot stop me from growing, learning, giving myself some strength and attention towards my goals, when all I ever did was support yours, no matter my frustrations or feelings.
I kept silent, and made it work.
Now, maybe you can do the same.

Olympia Provisions: Cured Meats and Tales from an American Charcuterie: A Review

Well, since work has been kicking my butt, I put Chef down for reviewing this one. I did a quick run-through, but he explored it in depth.

Here's what he relayed to me:
Confits, charcuterie, pâtés, and sausages are some of his favorite things, right up there with raindrops on roses or whatever. As a chef in a mostly bar-centric restaurant, he doesn't often get to practice these arts, but sneaks them in whenever he can. So when I saw this one, I knew it was right up his alley.

From a professional perspective, he says that the book is very thorough, and the recipes are detailed enough to provide the layman some direction on processes. He would be hesitant to have anyone who doesn't have some background try their hand at cured meats all by their lonesome, mainly because what this book is describing requires a HAACP plan in an actual restaurant setting, to prevent illness, etc.

He says the book is a good history and vibe of the restaurant itself, makes it intriguing, calls to you to come and visit or seek out their products. The images in the book, which are just foodie eye-candy, capture the essence of the food and the place. Totally worth the space they take up (in my opinion-I don't cook, haha), but chef says the book would be a whole lot smaller w/o them. He can take them or leave them, but totally understands their value as images and making the book complete. He's after the technical stuff, and has done enough sasuage making that the images are needed for him to get the directions.

However, they are gorgeous.

From both of us, this book is well worth the purchase price, for the content and for just as a beautiful piece of art to share at dinner time with friends, even if you end up buying their meats instead of making them yourself. We need more places like this in America, and we need to make this food accessible to everyone, because it's amazing and unappreciated in the vastness of MickyD's and Taco Bell, in quick pre-frozen food wastelands of the midwest and giant doggie bags of crap.

We need to enjoy our food, really enjoy it. This is a start.

*this book was received for free via Blogging For Books.

Gold, Fame, Citrus by Claire Vaye Watkins - A Review

Gold, Fame, Citrus is the apocalypse, imagined in a an eerily real way these days. Drought overtakes Southern CA (sound familiar), but to the point of barren wasteland, scavenging for anything fresh, water rations and abandonment. Most have left for greener pastures, but Luz and her boyfriend Ray hold out, their love enough to deal with the crazy.

Then, they find a little girl. Dirty, scruffy, indeterminable and irresistible, they take her from those whom have her. Ig, she is called, because that’s who she says she is.  A child, even if it’s not yours, makes your mind look towards the future, and they realize they need to leave.

On the way through, things happen. Bad things. Ray is gone and Luz is left with Ig, rescued by other hold outs, in an even more barren, more wasted wasteland were sand dunes constantly shift and grow, threatening to bury everyone at any moment. But there is a leader there, and he seems to have the answers.

This book is written like poetry, short, quip phrases and allusions, metaphors and fragmented thoughts that shift like the desert and sand in this story. It’s not for everyone, but for those people who can look deeper into the text, enjoy flawed characters and gritty wonder. It’s fantastical and realistic, all at once, and the ended leaves you lost and aching. 

Books should end like that sometimes.

(*this book was received for free as an ARC via Shelf Awareness)

Without You, There Is No Us by Suki Kim - A Review

Without You, There Is No Us offers a glimpse at the most secretive state in the world, North Korea. This is a very real, very powerful look at the sons of the elite in the DPNK, and author Suki Kim manages to give a human face to the faceless mass that is North Korean, sharing the underlying connections between all of us as human, and exploring the very real differences when you live in a place that refuses to let you think for yourself.

I read this book in a night, caught up in the same fascination that led Suki to seek out a way back to Pyongyang after her initial visit in 2002. Disguising herself as a missionary/teacher of English, she manages to land a position at PUST, The Pyongyang University of Science and Technology. This is her story of her two semesters teaching there.

My husband lived in South Korea, and I’ve always been fascinated by his description of his time there, and his trips to the DMZ. His father was in the military and the strangeness and sadness of a country quite literally divided has always gripped me, made me think about what we have here, and the simplest things, smallest freedoms, we experience every day and think nothing of.

Kim gives a honest, earnest look at the students she falls in love with, their trials and struggles and the incredible contradiction she sees because of where they were raised and the limits they face. She gives an honest look at the missionary/teachers as well, and the reasons they are really there.

What struck me was the irony of the missionaries, the desire to free these poor oppressed students under the rule and brainwashing of a dictator by planting themselves in North Korea so they can provide another set of dogma for them to eventually live by. Kim, an atheist, realizes this strangeness too. But money talks, and PUST is what it is because of it.

Kim leaves with a little hope, maybe something she said, something she did, in some way reaches her students. But she leaves, of course. 

Read this, and learn a little more about some place we can never really know about, at least not yet. But maybe reading this will offer some humanity and perspective on all we have.

*this book was received for free via Blogging For Books.

Review: Mark Bittman's Kitchen Matrix

I must say, I am bias towards Bittman. How to Cook Everything and How to Cook Everything Vegetarian have been my go-to's whenever I cook. By cooking, I mean looking in the fridge and seeing what's about to go bad, throwing it all together and making it work. Bittman's books have allowed me to make it work without it tasting like crap.

So I was excited to receive this book in the mail. First off, I gave it to my Chef husband, so we could dual review it, the thought being that his opinion about cookbooks would differ wildly from mine, but it wasn't as dramatic as I thought.

Him: "I like the layout of this book. It's organized in a way to make it easy for anyone to follow, and the base recipes allow people to expand upon their cooking techniques by providing a foundation. The variations on the recipes are pretty good as well. I do have an issue with some of the directions, for example, cutting meat. It's written, but there are no illustrations, and that's not something everyone would understand with written description only. "

Hrm. Good point, and something I didn't think about. So, that, coming from a Professional Chef. I looked over the book and read a bit, but then he snagged it and hasn't given it back, so it's apparently pretty sweet, regardless of any complaints.

 I appreciate the ease of all of Bittman's books, and this one allows you to be a little more creative, step out of your norm or go-to (which, for me, is something that ends up tasting vaguely Spanish). I also appreciated the 'what the hell to do with holiday leftovers' section, hehe. The photos, of course, are great, beautiful, clean, basically food porn, what I want to see in my cookbooks. 

OH. The cocktail section? That was pretty cool too.

(*this book was received free via bloggingforbooks.com) 

 

Cough/Cool

My week has been punctuated by violent, wracking coughs. It's interrupted my ability to work, my ability to create, and my ability to be present, especially for my children.

My oldest one is worried about me. He looks at me with concern, runs into the room when he hears a coughing fit, asks me 'Momma, are you alright?'

I look into big brown eyes and furrowed brow, sadness and worry evident. I remember waking up almost nightly since I was 5, listening to coughs overtake my mother, her hacking up phlegm and asking me for a glass of ice water. Starting the morning with a cigarette.

I used to throw away her cigarettes, break them, pour her beer down the sink, look at her with brown eyes and furrowed brow, worried and concern. 'Are you okay, Mommy?'

She said yes, she was fine.  Always fine. Every time I asked her, every time I said maybe she should go to the doctor. Eventually, I stopped asking, growing used to the sound, finding my new normal. This. Second hand smoke, arguments and pain.

She died of pharyngeal cancer a few years back.

'Momma, are you alright?'

Yes honey. I'm fine. I'm alright, and I'm going to the doctor's Monday morning. I'll be fine.

I will make sure I'm fine, because you and your brother don't deserve to grow up that way.

"Outside the Scope of Our Work, Sorry!"

What is work about, anyway?
I mean.. really, where do you draw the line?

I see it like this. With anything I do, anything I am, I give it my all. I try to provide the best possible 'service' I can. This can mean volunteering for my son's school field trip because they are short on chaperones, even though I have zero time, or going out of my way to make sure something is taken care of for a client, even though it's 6 PM Friday.

Because it matters to me. To be authentic, to be engaged and present in the work that I do. And the life I live.

Making money is a necessity. I need money to live, to feed my children, to keep delicious craft beer in my fridge and a roof over my head.

More important is my sense of pride, of sense of accomplishment and being the person I represent myself to be. Genuine. Authentic. Honest.



"Ama suwa, ama llulla, ama qhella"

Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky: A Review

...Becoming Yourself is like having an intimate conversation with David Foster Wallace and realizing how truly idiotic you are, realizing you may or may not actually think the same things as Foster Wallace. Maybe you aren't clever enough to articulate them, roll them around in your mouth and have it make sense the way it does in your head. Or maybe you are claiming his ideas as your own because he's just that good.

There's still a humanity here, a rawness. This book either serves as a great introduction to Foster Wallace and his work or is awesome for someone who has read all of Foster Wallace's work and is craving more.

Lipsky relinquishes control, lets David speak, puts the words out there and you can image the road rumbling under your feet, the smell of chewing tobacco and chaos, calm. He did the right there here, and he knows it. He knows the power of this voice because he experienced it first hand, and felt the need to share it with others. His bracketed notes and interjections give just enough insight into his head at the time. It's perfect.

If only I could be so introspective and articulate.

Lipsky's words are powerful and clear, his intro and afterwards. I enjoyed his style, his realness and rawness.

Foster Wallace is dead. This is the end, this is what we have. The tragedy of mental illness and the brilliance of a mind that obviously had not explored this world long enough... what would we get, today? This world dominated by screens, mindlessness and precious, precious success.

Read this. And someone go see the movie 'End Of The Tour' for me, because I don't know if I can handle it without an unbias review first.

Thanks.

Stifling Vaginas. Or: My Husband Should Only be Cooking at Home

So everything sucks. Which is fine, but it probably should be stated.

I'm all over the place with social media these days; blog reading, Feedly topics, Blab watching, YouTube viewing and Twitter following like a crazy person.

It's work relevant, which ranges from personal injury lawyers to chicken coops and medical travel, digital marketing and social media engagement as a whole.  It's life relevant, meaning family and parenting and being a bad ass mom. It's interests and passions: writing, books, tech and social interaction, current events, news, politics. Communication and online engagement, beer and food and restaurants and Chefs and more. Urbanism and city planning, my local community. Art, music, and bad TV.

Sometimes I hunt things down on Etsy and add them to my 'shit I wish someone would buy me' board on Pinterest.

Here I am, learning and engaging and devouring information, and I can't take my eyes off this screen. Screens, let's be honest, I have three fucking computer monitors and a laptop open most of the time.
Screens.

I love this knowledge at my fingertips. I love talking and sharing with the whole wide world. But behind me sits a whiny baby in his playpen after the sitter leaves and when the nap is over, before his brother comes home from school and his dad comes home from work.

I want to love my family without conditions. But I am ambitious, and driven, and I NEED to be engaged and work simply for the fact it keeps my mind sharp, helps shape my perspective and lets me learn. I NEED to be pushed to my breaking point. I like struggling to keep my head right above the water. I like having goals that force me to figure shit out, to learn something new.

I don't like "Momma, Momma. Can you put
on Naruto? Can I play video games? Where's my homework?" I don't like "Hey, so I am gonna work late today because I just found out we have a 30-top so you need to go ahead and do ALL THE THINGS."  I don't like whining dogs who have to go outside NOW, as soon as I get deep into writing a blog post.

I love my family. But I do have conditions. And the 'condition' of being a female in a mostly misogynistic society gives off guilt vibes whenever I choose not to participate in the PTA or don't have time to go to your damn party or really, really don't want to have a playdate at my house, because I don't want to clean up after your kids, let alone mine.

But- this is my life. These are my children, and my husband, and my damn dog. I adore my life and them. I adore my life with them, because without this crazy, strange brood of males I would not be as strong as I am.

How does one 'Lean In'  without being Sheryl Sandberg, without a private nursery and money to spare?

How do you get past this Catch-22 existence where you need more money to pay for babysitters and dog walkers and to have your husband home to raise the goats and bake the bread because that's what he really wants to do, so you have time to work more to make that money so you can have the time to work more to build a presence and make more money by building that portfolio and experiencing that you have no time to do?

Family dynamics are not the same for everyone. But fulfillment and happiness in wherever you fall in that family is essential for everyone.

Conversations and Realizations via Slack and Social Media

Me: I am .. getting super involved in learning about my work. I had the recent realization that I know just as much if not more than the ppl who like to pretend they know wtf they are talking about. 
 

Not Me: you are super knowledgeable.

 
Me: no no, the thing is.. this is key, okay? You have to assume you always can learn more. And then you do. And then you continue to seek out ways to make your work more interesting and engaging and you don't grow stagnant or bored. And you avoid big head syndrome or the desire for anything beyond self satisfaction from a job well done. And an okay paycheck. 

Me: ..and good whiskey. 

Deep Dark Fears by Fran Krause- Review

This graphic novel from Ten Speed Press is cute and quirky and a fun little gift for a birthday or holiday.  This is just, basically, a collection of illustrations about those weird, irrational fears we all possess. You know, those ones you never tell anyone because they are totally nonsensical and outrageous but in reality people would be like-- "oh. Me too." Each 'fear' is a few lines of text and a few panels of illustration- i.e. each page or two is one fear.

My irrational fears?

I used to be scared to be on the toilet when I flushed the toilet. I thought there was something that would come out of the toilet to take me to the netherworld, or something. So I'd wipe, stand up really fast, flush and slam the lid closed.

I also was terrified something was always under the bed so my bed was a boxspring and mattress on the floor. Thanks, Little Monsters.

And dolls--don't get me started.

I am a weirdo.

But so is everyone else. Reading this is justification on the strangeness that we all have floating around in our heads.

The drawings are gentle and offset by the actual fears, so it makes it much better than illustrations that were too graphic or sharp. This isn't something I'd necessarily seek out to purchase, but would appreciate as a fun little coffee table book to flip through.

 YES on Fear #12- I've often wanted to crawl inside my husband because I just love him so much.

That sounds weird, now that I typed it and re-read what I typed..

anyway.

A few of the illustrations/panels look not totally complete yet (I think..#33 or #34?) Oh.. yes, do add doodles of ants on #11. I like doodle ants.

And --also parents are pretty fucked up! Who tells their kids these things?

Oh.. me, probably. Wonder what permanent mental damage I've done to my kiddos so far...

*(note: e-galley sent free via Netgalley)

Quiet.

I like to listen. To everything. I get sidetracked with my current conversation because I hear the voices in the cafe, in the bar. Clearly. I hear the argument across the street and I wonder why the man is made at the women. I wonder if this is how they are, always. If this is how they love. It sounds loud but maybe it is nothing to them.

Then I miss my turn.

I'm not the best speaker, because I'm reluctant to open my mouth before I've had the chance to mull your words over in my mind, decide what to say, wanting to say what I really mean. I am listening, and I do understand, and you'll understand I understand once you see the words on a page.

But I might end up choking on a piece of ice when I take a sip of water once I muster courage to respond to your question.

I hear you. I am thinking about everything around me, what I see, what you say, the colors and the shifting shadows of the trees dancing on my file cabinet, the smells in the air and the bitter, salty, sweet on my tongue.

The world is endlessly, exquisitely fascinating. I am not shy. I am not ignorant. My humor can be rough, but I am sincere. You can doubt me, if you want. But I don't doubt me.