Search Results for: fevered

Fevered

How appropriate that the two pictures I have to prove I left my house this weekend are of a church, when for the last few days all I have done is worship commercial fiction. Even more amusing: I took these pictures on a walk to the library to pick up more of the same.

I decided to treat myself to something tawdry the day after my birthday. Or, something entertaining. Or, something outside my normal reading comfort zone. Whatever, so long as it was fun and inexpensive. I went to Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, my favorite source, and saw this post. I skimmed the titles and noticed the warning about Darkfever and its addictive qualities. I went to Amazon and was surprised to see such a high rating after so many reviews.

Then I read what it was about. Faeries? Mythical creatures? Potential dogs-and-cats-living-together dystopian hysteria? Eh. If it wasn’t for the $1.99 price tag I would have moved on, despite my puffing that I was looking to try something new. But it was there, and it was on sale, so I tried it.

The first few chapters weren’t good, but I knew from the reviews to expect the story to speed up after chapter 5 or so. I plowed on.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it was OMG!!! <3 <3 <3 You give me fever, Darkfever!!1!

Damn. They were right.

I don’t like paranormal or scary or action but there I was, all weekend long, loving every minute of it like a naked innocent girl roaming the countryside. I’m on book three, a birthday dinner in my honor the only reason I’m not on book four. Book five is the last in the New York Times best selling series, and I feel a little silly even talking about them, like I’m the girl at the party sidling up to people and asking if they’ve ever heard of a book called Twilight. Dreamworks optioned the rights to the movie over the summer so, yeah. I’m a little late to the station on this one.

I’m happy. I love getting lost in books, even if that means freaking myself out thinking about faeries. Did you know faeries are cruel and sadistic and the opposite of Tinkerbell? I didn’t until last summer when I was reading all the Charlaine Harris books in my unread library. The faeries in that book were vicious, too, and I was so surprised to read that characterization that I researched faery folklore and mythology. (Of course I did.) All folklore and mythology describe the Fae as violent, evil creatures bent on toying with humans.

I shared all this with the Mister this weekend in between book two and three, and asked him if he thought it was at all strange that mythology and folklore, in general, is the same from country to country. Every ancient society has stories of vampires, lycanthropes, and other creatures of the night. Where did it all begin, and why? Where does the line of truth blur into the line of fiction? And I just looked at him, eyes big, talking fast, my fingers punctuating the air when a word or two didn’t seem quite right.

“Because, I mean, really,” I went on. “It’s kind of a coincidence, don’t you think? And doesn’t the idea of a faery world freak you out?”

To his credit, he sat there watching me the entire time I rambled. Nodding his head and blinking in all the right spots. When he realized I was going to stop talking long enough for him to answer he looked at me not unkindly and said, “Oh yeah, sure. The idea of a faery world totally freaks me out. But, since it does not exist, I’m not going to worry about it tonight.”

Right.

This is why I stick with contemporary romances.

What to Read

Books

My greatest achievement over the past two days was the acquisition of a new pair of flats to wear with my skinny jeans. The pair I’ve been wearing for over two years are stretched beyond comfort. They flop when I walk and give me blisters. I bought Minnetonkas, shoes I last wore when I was 8 years old, so I’m not sure if this achievement isn’t in fact a regression. We’ll see how these work out.

I have Senioritis. I’m waiting for summer and becoming increasingly overwhelmed with everything on my plate, real and imagined. I knew baseball with two kids would be challenging on top of choir, school, everything…but in these past few weeks it seems like we have something to do every single day. Practices six days a week between both boys, games, homework, my niece is in a play, the Mister is traveling on business, family visiting, birthdays, holidays…none of it serious and none of bad. Just everyday stuff. Some people come alive with constant activity. I don’t. I hate having something to do every day, even when that something is good and fun and evidence of a full and happy life.

I’m aware that I’m ungrateful and, also, an enormous wimp. I have two kids! Round of applause to those with four children in sports. I can think of at least three families I know living this…dream? Nightmare? Either way, YOU WIN.

Over the weekend I reached a breaking point, and since I’m trying very much not to eat my emotions, I fell back on my next favorite vice: reading books of questionable quality. Since Sunday I’ve read this one, this one, and this one. I was hoping to find another series of ridiculous, campy awesomesauce (to wit: Dark Fever) but so far no such luck. The hunt for literary oblivion continues.

I do feel better, though, having decompressed a bit between the pages of three bad books. Truly, how can you be stressed about conflicting baseball games and school plays when you know somewhere out there a half breed vampire and her blind vampire king (full-blooded, impressive lineage) are struggling to rebuild a crumbling paranormal empire?

You can’t, obviously.

I’m getting sidetracked. I really wanted to come here to ask for a list of books you’ve been dying to read. I want a summer reading list for our book club so those of us with lackluster libraries [raises hand] have a chance at getting the book in time to participate in the discussions. I have a few ideas, but instead of linking to a million books and cluttering up your browser page, I’m linking to my book club page on Pinterest. I’m thinking about allowing people to pin suggestions to that board. What do you think? I also troll Goodreads for ideas. If we’re friends there, I look to see what books everyone has in common in their “to-read” lists. So friend me on Goodreads if you haven’t already.

I’m off to buy a tank filter since ours bit the bucket last night. Then I’m going to eat lunch, pick up the boys from school, and get Mikey ready for practice. After that, I’m going to studiously ignore the stains on the floor because I don’t feel like mopping.

Unstyled Life

House

When my brothers and I were children, our parents would buy us a flimsy piece of cardboard with punch-out chocolate of suspect quality and call it Advent. I can’t speak for my brothers, but I know I never did manage to eat only one chocolate per day. I was always midway through Advent by December 3rd.

Then all us over-achieving Generation Xers had to grow up and have kids. Suddenly, punch-out chocolates seemed gauche. Positively pedestrian! We created a new kind of Advent calendar. Many knew kinds of Advent calendars. There are Advent boxes and Advent bags. Advent houses and Advent stockings. Advent trees with 24 packages. Advent, Advent, Advent.

And it wasn’t enough for us to swap the delivery mechanism. Oh, no. We had to go and change what we were delivering, too. No foil-wrapped chocolates of indeterminate age and manufacturer for our children! We, in our infinite pre-housing crash wisdom, gave gifts–some big, some small; some fun, some practical–for 24 days straight. It was Chanukah on steroids.

I did that. Guilty, 100%. Our budget didn’t allow me to give gifts for 24 days straight, though, which coincided nicely with the part of me that occasionally thought…something about this just isn’t right. My usual gifts to the boys were Christmas pajamas, maybe some mittens and a hat, and a pair of socks. One year I gave the boys hot cocoa mugs. The remaining 20 days were things like trim the tree or drive around and see lights or watch a movie with mom and dad. Those were fun. We didn’t do the calendar this year. With everyone so sick, especially Nicholas, I just didn’t have the time to get it together. The gift of “experiences” may be free, but it takes time to plan and organize.

Alas, parents far better than I weren’t content stuffing Advent calendars and celebrating Christmas. Of course not! Why be stressed when, with a little work, you can be positively insane? Let’s create the Elf on a Shelf, an androgynous little doll with adoption papers (naturally) that sits in your home watching over children. Every night, the elf goes back to the North Pole and reports to Santa who has been naughty and who has been nice. You move it every night to a new location as proof of its travels. It’s supposed to keep kids in line. So does my withering stare, but okay, fine. I get it. Cute!

But then. Then! We couldn’t leave well enough alone and have the elf move twenty four(ish) times. No. Noooooo. No. Now the elf with the name you register at an online adoption center (naturally) does things while children are sleeping or at school or practicing cello. They upend laundry baskets. They put food dye in the faucets. They make cookies, but (hahaha!) they leave a big mess of flour and cracked eggs all over the kitchen!

Oh my gosh, that silly elf! Whoever is going to clean that up? Is it going to be Papa Claus? Because Mama Claus spent all day shopping for teachers’ gifts and bought her mother in-law a sweater at Kohl’s. Ho! Ho! Ho!

I love my boys. I really do. I read to them. I bake with them. I shuttle them around to all their activities. I volunteer in their classes, team-mom their soccer teams, and pretend like there is nothing I would rather do on this earth than go on a play date. This week we are transferring chrysalises into a butterfly cage and next week making marbled paper. By God, I do not have the time or the energy or the desire to clean up a mess made by an elf on a shelf.

I don’t need an Elf of the Shelf. I need a Ryan Gosling on a shelf, the kind that will write me letters every day for a year. Or a Don Draper on a Shelf. Twenty four days of mixed drinks and nihilism sounds good to me. And after finishing that Fever series last week, I’m all in favor of 365 days of Christmas if it means I get a Jericho Barrons on a Shelf. Make that two dozen Jericho Barrons on a Shelf. I’m a reader; I have lots of shelves. Lots and lots of shelves.

Please don’t judge me. I’m a good mom, I promise. And if you are one of those moms with an Elf of a Shelf who loves to type out elfin letters or clean up messes or leave little presents to your kids from “Belegurphen” or “Ashley,” please know I’m not judging you, either. Everyone is different, and there is room in this town for both of us. There just isn’t room on my shelf for an elf.

p.s. The boys want an Elf of a Shelf so badly they can taste it. Just watch: next year I’ll cave.

Dining with Dueling Dinos

Friends + Family

People, I am tired. I am beyond tired. I’m so tired I didn’t even have the energy to snap at three people who got on my nerves today. Instead, I was all, eh. I’ll berate them next time. Truth? I have a new business partner (well, since December-ish) and we have been working on a few projects that will allow us both to stay at home with the family units. See my positive attitude? Not MAY allow us–WILL allow us to stay at home. Failure is not an option for either one of us; we need/want this too damn bad. Anyway, the last few months we’ve been designing and planning and brainstorming. This week, everything hit a fevered pitch. Ergo, exhaustion.
But, until we are ready to go, I need to practice law. And, because 3, 3.5 hour Bankruptcy seminars in 4 days is not enough for our young heroine, I’m going to an all day BK conference in LA tomorrow. Yay. The conference starts at 8:00am, so I will be leaving the house sometime around 4:00am. Oh, just kidding. I mean 5:00am. Boo.

Another boo? I will miss my Weight Watchers weigh in. I’m going to go on Saturday, and hope whatever greasy food they serve us tomorrow doesn’t do too much damage. I’m hoping the brain power it will take for me to fashion a noose out of a handful of binder clips with give me a few carry over points and balance out any cheese danishes I might happen to cram down my pie hole.

BUT WAIT! Funny picture. Mikey and the Mister decided to turn into dinos after dinner. The Mister, with his small, two fingered arms is clearly a T-Rex. Mikey is definitely a Charmasaurus.