My friend Britt has a great post today about Oprah's book choices. I've blogged before about why I tend to not  read the Oprah books while they are the Oprah books, and it always makes me feel a little bit self-satisfied when she picks a book I have already read. I am this way about quite a few things. Anything, in fact, that someone famous says is good, cool, inspiring, or amazing, I immediately don't like or want to do. Even if I haven't yet tried it for myself and am totally being judgemental. This is my own special brand of persnickitiness and I am sticking to my quirks.

But! I do think Oprah is good at picking out great reads. It does make me extremely happy that a celebrity promotes reading. I think Oprah's books have contributed immensely to helping reading become a hip thing to do. I only wish she (and other famous people) would work harder at it. I think authors should have groupies and big tour buses, like rock stars. In fact I think authors are way cooler than rock stars. And they have cleaner hair.

Anyway. Is reading Oprah's books a sign of intelligence? Or is she simply a bellwether sheep? (WHY hasn't she ever done a Connie Willis novel, now that I think about it!) Probably it's a little bit of both. And my persnickitiness aside, anything that gets more people reading is fine by me! Here's the list of Oprah's books. I put the ones I've read in purple. And, of course, there is some commentary. Because I can't just change font colors.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens (2010) (Tried after reading Great Expectations but it didn't capture my interest at all. Bad English major!)

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens (2010) (I read this sometime in early 1996, when Haley was a baby.)

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen (2010) (I will read this if my name ever makes it to the top of the hold list.)

Say You’re One of Them by Uwem Akpan (2009)

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski (2008)

A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle (2008) (Some Oprah books just don't grab my attention; this one I purposefully didn't read because I was feeling snarkily resistant)

The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett (2007) (I had this book as my to-read goal for October. Last October. I got so far as buying my copy. Another will-read.)

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (2007) (Swoon, but not for everyone, especially not uptight book groups)

Middlesex By Jeffrey Eugenides (2007) (loved it...why didn't I write anything about it?)

The Road by Cormac McCarthy (2007)  (another LOVE, but, then, I have that thing for dystopias/post-apocalyptic novels)

The Measure of a Man by Sidney Piotier (2007)

Night by Elie Wiesel (2006) (Not sure when I read this, but it is powerful, sad, and haunting. I keep picking up Mr. Wiesel's other books but then putting them back on the shelf because I don't want my relationship with this book to be changed by his others, if that makes sense)

A Million Little Pieces by James Frey (2005)

Light in August by William Faulkner (2005)

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner (2005) (Not my favorite university read, but I survived it. I WANT to love Faulkner; does that count for anything?)

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner (2005)

The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck (2004)

Anna Karinina by Leo Tolstoy (2004)

The Heart is a Lonely Hunterby Carson McCullers (2004) (more people should read McCullers—she is so good!)

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (2004)

Cry, The Beloved Country by Alan Paton (2003)

East of Eden by John Steinbeck (2003) (Even though it's Becky's story, East of Eden makes me think of my dad, because she bought it and read some of it to him in the early days of his disease, and I love the thought that maybe some of Steinbeck's words stay with him)

Sula by Toni Morrison (2002) (This is my favorite Toni Morrison, which is sort of an odd choice because it's not quite as powerful as some of her other novels; I think my affection comes because it's the first novel I read by her and because my essay about it was one of the few that got an A from a very particular professor)

Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald (2002) (I read this one not because of Oprah's recommendation but because of Becky's. I can't remember, though, if I read her copy or the library's.)

A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry (2001)

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen (2001)

Cane River by Lalita Tademy (2001) (One of my favorite on the list because it focuses on one of the things I think about quite a bit: how much are we influenced by ancestors we never knew?)

Stolen Lives: Twenty Years in a Desert Jail by Malika Oufkir (2001)

Icy Sparksby Gwyn Hyman Rubio (2001) (Hmmmmm...I read it but I don't have much to say about it. Did I love it? Hate it? Can't remember.)

We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates (2001) (My second-favorite Oates—following Foxfire: Confessions of an All-Girl Gang—but I read nearly everything she writes. Another author who isn't for everyone (her stories are often about violence and are unrepentant in shying away from looking at the topic carefully) but for me? For me, she's good.)

House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III (2000)

Drowning Ruth by Christina Schwarz (2000) (Like Icy Sparks, I don't have an opinion on this one, even though I read it)

Open House by Elizabeth Berg (2000) (love, love Elizabeth Berg; she is a writer whose books make me itch to become a writer; my favorite by her is The Pull of the Moon)

The Poisonwood Bibleby Barbara Kingsolver (2000) (The only time in my life I didn't miss an episode of Oprah for months because I didn't want to miss the one with Barbara Kingsolver on it. This book is in my top-five all-time-favorite books. I love it so!)

While I Was Gone by Sue Miller (2000)

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison (2000) (This really should be my favorite Morrison. Such a moving, memorable, tough book)

Back Roadsby Tawni O’Dell (2000) (Oprah definitely MADE this book. It was OK.)

Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende (2000) (Thank goodness for Isabel Allende; I found her when I was in ninth grade and she was one of my first exposures to non-lame writing.)

Gap Creek by Robert Morgan (2000)

A Map of the World by Jane Hamilton (1999) (Sigh. I love this book, even though I can rarely get anyone to check it out. Can't figure out why this is scary.)

Vinegar Hill by A. Manette Ansay (1999)

River, Cross My Heart by Breena Clarke (1999)

Tara Roadby Maeve Binchy (1999) (Maeve Binchy is my guilty pleasure)

Mother of Pearl by Melinda Haynes (1999)

White Oleander by Janet Fitch (1999) (My bunco friend Michelle told me about this book. "When I was reading it," she said, "I kept thinking 'Amy would love this book.' It's totally an Amy book." She was right. I recommend this one all the time at work to patrons who aren't afraid of a little grit. Sad and disturbing but so well-written. The movie version was so-so.)

The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve (1999)

The Reader by Bernhard Schlink (1999)

Jewel by Bret Lott (1999) (fuzzy memory strikes again; my gut response is "sweet" but it could be totally off; correct me if I'm wrong!)

Where the Heart Isby Billie Letts (1998) (Love!)

Midwives by Chris Bohjalian (1998) (My introduction to Bohjalian, whose books I enjoy but I don't recommend very often, mostly because I'm not sure how to say his last name.)

What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day by Pearl Cleage (1998)

I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb (1998) (Read Becky's copy. Might still have Becky's copy.)

Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat (1998)

Black and Blueby Anna Quindlen (1998) (although I think her essays are better than her novels.)

Here on Earthby Alice Hoffman (1998) (Squeeeee! Not only Alice Hoffman but my favorite Alice Hoffman book. River King is a close second.)

Paradise by Toni Morrison (1998)

The Best Way to Play by Bill Cosby (1997)

The Treasure Hunt by Bill Cosby (1997)

The Meanest Thing to Say by Bill Cosby (1997)

A Virtuous Woman by Kaye Gibbons (1997)

Ellen Foster by Kaye Gibbons (1997) (love)

A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines (1997) (I was thinking so hard about what to write about Ellen Foster that I skipped this one without even noticing. AND I didn't write anything thrilling! This was one of my SDBBE picks. I blogged about it here. Thanks, Becky, for point it out to me!)

Songs in Ordinary Timeby Mary McGarry Morris (1997) (I also read Becky's copy)

The Heart of a Woman by Maya Angelou (1997) (Maya Angelou is sort of poetry-light, but I still love her)

The Rapture of Canaan by Sheri Reynolds (1997) (Excellent, excellent book)

Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi (1997) (A unique look at the Holocaust)

She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb (1997)

The Book of Ruth by Jane Hamilton (1996) (I need to read more of Jane Hamilton's work)

Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison (1996)

The Deep End of the Oceanby Jacquelyn Mitchard (1996) (I wonder why Oprah picked this book as the first? Did she have plans to spawn the above list? Or did it all unfold sort of organically? I mean...I enjoyed this book. But it's definitely not my favorite on the list.)

Now, just one question for Oprah: Ummmmm, have you heard of Margaret Atwood? I think you should try one of her books for your list!

And a question for you: which Oprah book is your favorite? (Mine is The Poisonwood Bible of course.) Oh, one more: have we read any of the same titles?

Chances are, if you are a friend, neighbor or relative who has had a baby, I have made a baby quilt for you. This might come as a surprise to some of you friends, neighbors, and/or relatives who've had babies, since not everyone has actually receivedsaid baby quilts. Sometimes the quilts get made only in my head, which is full of good intentions. Sometimes they are "made" in the sense that I buy the fabric for them. (Such as Kayci's twoyoungest daughters and Lindsay's youngest son.) Occasionally they get partly made, which is the case with Britt's daughter, who is closing in on two years old. I made the quilt top but then couldn't figure out how to quilt it, so I put it away until inspiration struck. Which it still hasn't. Every once in awhile, I'll actually finish the quilt, put it in a cute gift bag, and then manage to not take the gift over until it's far too late. It would be weird to show up with a baby quilt for an eight-month old, wouldn't it?

But!

Sometimes I manage to conceptualize, shop for, sew, quilt, bind andgive the baby quilts I make. I even keep baby-quilt-laundering supplies (a package of fragrance-free dryer sheets and a bottle of Dreft which I never  sniff just to be reminded of how baby laundry smells) on hand for my successes. I think I'm most successful when I keep the project simple. And as I have four new babies coming up soon (my sister-in-law Melissa's and then one each for my nieces Lindsay, Brittany, and Jacqui) I'm going to be doing a bit of simple sewing. So yesterday I sat down and figured out the dimensions and yardage for a simple rag baby quilt. And then I executed:

Here you have attempt #1 at a simple, made-in-a-few-hours baby quilt. It's not exactly what I intended, because that jungle-animal print came in a strip pattern already, so it messed up my measurements. (When I make another one with my original dimensions, I'll write up a tutorial, just so I can remember exactly how to do it.) I made this one for a friend at work, whose baby shower is today. It didn't turn out just like I had hoped—it's wider than it is long—but I still think it's cute.

Whenever I am making a baby quilt, even a quick one, I'll have a moment when I'm besieged with doubt. Is this a dumb gift? Will it be sturdy or embarrassingly fragile? Are the colors and patterns OK? Would the mom rather receive something practical, like clothes or diapers or bottles? I'm not sure. Part of the give-a-quilt motivation is simply that I enjoy making them, so in that sense I'm not even doing it for them.

So, that's my question to you. If you've received a baby quilt as a gift (from me or someone else), was it a good gift? Or would a practical something be better?

copying: both Britt (the originator) and Becky (who copied Britt, so I am copying the copier) with this post's format.

wondering: why is my left forearm and hand sort-of numb and tingly?

hoping: the guy we had to call the ambulance for at work today is OK.

reading: almost finished with Imperfect Birds by Anne Lamott; also Village Life  by Louise Gluck and, theoretically, Reading Jesus by Mary Gordon (theoretically because I checked it out from the library and then decided I neeeeeeed my own copy, so now I'm waiting for my Amazon order to come so I can pick it back up again).

listening: to "Lonely No More" by Rob Thomas (really, really loudly, as well as singing along in my horrible voice), "Crystal Village" by Pete Yorn (a song I simply cannot get sick of), Believe by The Bravery, "Numb" by LinkinPark (even though I have a hard time forgiving that spelling), and "Blow Away" by A Fine Frenzy

eating: (obsessively) Lindt Lindor Truffles; I thought I was out of the woods with these because I'd only seen them at Target during Christmas. Apparently they also sell them for Valentine's Day. Damn.

drinking: the very last of the pomegranate 7-up. Thanks mom!

thinking: a lot about writing lately. It's time to really write. I just don't know how to start. It feels too big. What: just sit down and write my novel? It's like diving off a cliff.

writing: an essay about rebellion and its benefits. I've decided that one way to actually become a writer is to be more dedicated about submitting my stuff. I know! Shocking!!!So I'm writing this essay (that starts with a little black dress) and I WILL submit it. Somebody check up on me!

wearing: a pair of pajamas I bought in October and then left in the back of the van. Until yesterday.

scrapbooking: Christmas photos. Almost all of my layouts for christmas 2010 are done. Why does this feel like an enormous accomplishment?

wanting: these Ray Ban sunglasses. BAD. The purple ones. I've already visited them twice!

watching: I'm super-careful about picking up new TV shows. Not because I'm snobby about TV but because if I like a show I'll get a little bit obsessed about it, and I already feel like I watch too much. I did try out Harry's Law and Off the Map, but I haven't decided for sure if I like either one enough to dedicate all those hours of my life. Opinions?

itching: my back, of course. But more carefully so as to avoid Bloody Back.

loving: Haley's new-found affection for Amy Tan novels; Jake's text he sent me yesterday before leaving for the Klondike ("I love you youre the best mother ever" awwwww); Nathan's dedication to his science project; the gap in Kaleb's mouth when he smiles

What are you -ing lately???

Here is the truth: I am stuck with a case of the January grumpies. It started on Sunday morning, when I woke up really, really annoyed. Who knows why? But here it is, Friday, and I'm still a little bit bitchy. OK, maybe I'm always a little bit. And now I am a LOT. So here's my attempt to find the silver lining in all my storm clouds (randomalities-style)

• Kaleb lost his first tooth on Sunday. It really wasn't super-loose, but he was watching an episode of Super Why (while I lay in bed and tried to get my grumpiness under control) about the tooth fairy, and suddenly he wanted it out. Kendell pulled it—I am not a tooth puller. The sound it makes coming out makes me want to hurl. There was still a long, pointy root on it...it's very Seussian. I stayed in bed with the covers over my head during the tooth extraction. Bawling. The tooth is just another sign that my baby is growing up. Soon he'll be 14 or so and think I'm the worst mom ever. How do you cope with teenagers when you don't simultaneously have a little one who says sweet things like "Mom, you look beautiful"?
• My wonderful friend Jamie has been instrumental in me getting my (growing-larger) butt out of bed three times a week at an unholy hour to go to spin class. As I've not exercised since Halloween, this has been a good thing. It's also made me gain two pounds. It's all muscle, right?
• My email is fixed. Dear gmail person who thought it'd be cool to mark my email address as spam: hey, thanks. that was an AWESOME week of bouncing mail to any and all gmail accounts. Not to mention the fact that every email I sent to a gmail address sent back fifteen "transfer delayed" emails. SWEET! Thank you so much!
• Noooooooooooo!!! Between writing that bullet and this one, I started getting the gmail bouncing thing again. CURSES!!!!! Where'd my Positive go? If you have a gmail address and are waiting for an email from me, it might be awhile.
• You know that "no white after Labor Day" rule? I generally ignore it, but I think I might have to take it back up. When winter comes, my back gets itchy. My back and my scalp. I know it's from the cold and the dryness and have yet to find a solution. I just scratch and scratch and scratch. It's great for the shoulder flexibility, scratching your own back. Anyway, last night after work when I was getting into my PJs, I pulled off my white undertease, I discovered a great big bloody spot right over my left shoulderblade. SWEET! Scratching till you bleed = why you shouldn't wear white in the winter.
• Fast story my bloody back reminded me of: one night I was happily scrapbooking. Cutting out stuff with an Exacto. Got a back itch and, without thinking, scratched it. With my Exacto. Was glad I didn't need stitches for the long gash I carved into my very own back at 1:15 in the morning. Are you laughing now? I hope so. Your laughter totally dispels my grumpiness.
• I love this song by Pink:

(Those are PENNY snatchers, not whatever else you're thinking.) OK, it's a little raunchy and the video might be shocking. I DID buy the clean version! But I still love it, maybe because I am definitely too school for cool.

What holds (sort of) your January grumpiness at bay? Or do you just indulge in grumpiness???

Confession: I don't read any of the famous Mormon Mommy Blogs. (Like CJane or Nat the Fat or even Rockstar Diaries, which is a great title for a blog.) I did, for awhile. In a way, they're comforting: an oasis of the familiar in a landscape of non-religious writing. But I stopped, and here's why: they depress me.

So when I read this article on Salon.com, by Emily Matchar, about Mormon Mommy Blogs, and how many non-Mormon, non-mothers love to read them, I got a little bit more depressed. Not to mention annoyed. Here—go read the article. I'll wait.

Back? OK, here's what annoys me: these women present to the world the face of what it's like to be a Mormon and a mother. Their "shiny, happy lives" have an appeal to the women out in the real world because they make things like marriage and motherhood seem "completely unproblematic." Which is exactly why I  don't   like reading them. The blogs portray an excess of fabulousness: fabulous dinner parties! fabulous outings! fabulous friends! fabulous marriages! Fabulous crafts and furniture and homes! The lives these bloggers live seem utterly perfect, down to the exact shade of pale blue they painted their living room wall. Not to mention their husbands. And their children.

Possibly this annoyance of mine comes across as simple, brittle jealousy. If I had a fabulous life like theirs, I wouldn't feel annoyed, right? If I just had all the right clothes, and beautiful hair, and an excess of cash to spend however I liked. Or maybe if I had a fabulously large blog readership I, too, would be content with putting my shiny, happy face forward.

But it's more than jealousy. It's also the simple fact that the world sees them as the face of Mormonism. This  is how fabulous your life will be if you are a Mormon! Isn't that just grand? The gospel will bring all of this cool, amazing stuff into your life. You will be fabulous!

And I couldn't agree less. Maybe it's because I am, at heart, a rogue Mormon. Doing my best to live it but still questioning and struggling. The gospel hasn't brought me any of the fabulous things those women have. My house is fairly lame—no one would ever think it is well-decorated. Far from the perfect shade of pale blue, most of my walls are white. White that needs to be re-whitened. My children are perfect to me, of course, but they are not perfect and I would be loathe to put such a burden as perfection upon their shoulders. My husband doesn't look like a cute graphic designer. Our marriage is so far from perfect it isn't even funny. We fight. A lot. My kids say things like "this family is pathetic" and "no one listens to me" and "why is everyone else more important?"

We are not shiny.

But, you know? Even though I really am  envious of those blogs' high readership (do they write better than I do? or is it simply their topics? or better marketing skills? or their ability to pull off the shiny-happy-plastic thing that I just can't?), I don't know if I believe the "my life is perfect" act. I don't think the gospel exists so that I can make crafts with my kids every afternoon. I don't think being a good LDS person has anything to do with the color of your walls or the shape of your husband's eyeglasses. It has to do with me wrestling with myself. It has to do with me learning and growing and trying to prepare my children for their futures. 

The gospel doesn't give you wealth. It doesn't bring you your dream home or the ability to decorate it well. It doesn't give you amazing crafting skills, a deft hand at picking out the perfect vintage dress, or the luck of finding the perfect pet (that you can dress in a raincoat). It doesn't even magically make all of your relationships blissful. What it does give you is far less tangible.

Women like Emily Matchar, "secular, childless women who may have never so much as baked a cupcake," are drawn to the Mormon Mommy Blogs because of the happy ease they present. They read them because they are different from their own experiences and provide a glimpse of an alternate reality. I don't  read them for exactly the same reason: because they are different from my own experiences, even with that LDS familiarity. My life is never going to be shiny-happy. It just isn't. I'm not sure if that is because I'm not doing enough things correctly, or if what they write on their blogs is only the skimmings—just the shiny, happy parts.

Being a Mormon—just like, I'd imagine, being a Jew or a Catholic or an aethist or a dentist—doesn't turn you into a clone. There isn't one perfect way of being. I'm not judging the Mormon Mommy Bloggers. I'm glad that there are people in the world who do have shiny-happy lives. Good for them for making their perfection into a means to support their families. But they are not the only kind of Mormon people. We are painted in extremes: extremely happy or extremely deluded. The world fails to see the majority of us in the middle, trying to live our lives, trying to be good people (whatever that means), trying to be happy despite our lack of perfection.

Yesterday I drove my sister to the airport so she and my mom could take her daughters on a cruise. It was a cold, grey, smoggy, drizzly morning and the thought of going somewhere with sunlight, warmth, and color was tantalizing (to say the least). As I drove home (after hanging out with my bestie at the mall, where I discovered that I might just not ever find another bra that actually fits me because apparently my size is rarer than any known precious metal, a fact that decidedly doesn't make me feel unique or special, but fairly freakish in relation to The Girls) I was thinking about wishes. You know...the things you wish you could do with your life if you were somehow bequeathed with plenty of money and time. Probably none of these wishes will ever come true because, well...if you fail to plan, you plan to fail I suppose. (Cliche, but a true one.) Still, I wanted to write them down, the Fabulous, Impossible Things (that Money Can Buy) I Wish For (while knowing I'll more than likely never have them):

1. A Cabin in the Woods. Somewhere remote but not terribly; near a lake large enough to water ski on but small enough to not draw big crowds. Somewhere with seasons, trees, hiking trails, and wildlife. A structure big enough for extended family parties, elegantly designed, with big windows to frame those beautiful vistas, cozy rooms with fireplaces, and lots of nooks and crannies. And quilts, of course. Quilts everywhere.
2. Travels to Europe. I really, really want to hike the Swiss Alps. Eat cheese, pasta, and gelato in Italy. Visit art museums in France. Tour Germany. I'd like to visit all the literary places in Great Britain and spend as long as I wanted doing family history research there. Explore Ireland. While there are other places in the world I'd also like to see (like, say, Easter Island, and New Zealand, and the Scandinavian fjords), Europe is on the top of my list.
3. My dream home. It really wouldn't be much bigger than the house I have now. It would just be designed better, and everyone would have their own room. And the master bath would have its own bathtub (we just have a shower in ours). If I were really dreaming big I'd also want my own office/ library/personal room where I could write, scrapbook, sew, and read. What I would want a whole lot bigger is the yard. Ours is tiny, and too shady now for a vegetable garden. I want trees and vegetables! And a big spot for raspberry canes and blackberry bushes.
4. A Mustang. OK, that's a little bit embarrassing to admit. I'm not really a car girl. My dad used to say that cars are only good for one thing: getting you from point A to point B. Everything else was a bonus. Of course, the fact that he considered brake lights, seat belts, and a working gas gage to be "bonus" might detract from the validity of his reasoning, but my point is, I've never been one to lust over fast, fancy cars. Except I still have a thing for Mustangs. Have since I was 16 or so. They're fast and sleek and powerful and just work for me, somehow.
5. The ability to help other people. I wish I could, say, sponsor a scholarship. Or go on service trips to third world countries. (Exactly how I could help there is anyone's guess, of course, because teaching them to enjoy reading probably wouldn't be the way to rescue anyone.) Or secretly pay off someone's mortgage.

All of that said, though, I know I have a lot to be grateful for. I'm not complaining. Just wishing. And curious: do you have Fabulous, Impossible Things you wish for?

***Preface: if you own a Nook or a Kindle or any other e-reader device, please know that YOU don't annoy me. Just e-readers (the technology, not the reader who reads electronically) bug. I still love YOU!***

Ever since Christmas, approximately 82% of the phone calls I answer at work start something like this:

"Hi, I got a ___________ [Nook, Kindle, other e-reader device] for Christmas and somebody told me I can download e-books for free from the library."

Deep sigh. Actually, I don't really sigh. I grit my teeth a little bit, but it's surprisingly easy to smile while gritting. That question combines two things that really, really bother me: 1—the "I can never actually purchase a book I want to read! Who BUYS BOOKS?" attitude and 2—unsubstantiated rumors.  I'd really like to know who this "somebody" is that's spreading the get-your-e-books-for-free-from-the-library rumor.

It's worse than the time that Merilee Crook spread a rumor that no one should kiss me (especially not the boy we both liked) because I had mono. (I didn't have mono.)

Because here's the thing: sure, some big city libraries do have e-books you can check out. For free! But ours doesn't. You can use Netlibrary or Overdrive for e-books, but there are about 27 titles to choose from, all of which are highly boring. You're not going to find Outlander or The Stand or Twilight there. (Gasp!) If you want e-books on your e-reader, you're going to have to buy them.

And then the complaining starts. People want to read books without buying them—hence the library. But there's just not a system in place (yet...I'm certain there will be) for checking out many e-books. I'm certain it has to do with copyright and ownership and other stuff that makes my brain glaze over. And also makes my point for me.

Books (the kind made of paper and ink, with a cover and possibly a ribbon to mark your spot) are easy. You buy one and then you open it up and read it. You own it; you hold it in your hands. You turn the pages. You can write in it and fold the pages down and love it. You can remember your history in conjunction with your copy of that book. I can't bond with electronics like I can with a book.

And yeah, I know the plug: you can carry around your entire library in your purse on an e-reader. (But only the library you've purchased!) Generally I have never needed my entire library all at once. If I'm going to be somewhere with plenty of reading time, I plan ahead. I bring three or four books along and I am happy.

But when it comes right down to it, the reason e-readers annoy me is that I love books. Real books, the ones you read with both your mind and your senses. I love the smell of a book, even if it's dusty; love to hold it in my hands. Love to turn the pages. And I am deeply terrified that the e-readers of the world will manage to overthrow the book readers, and then books will stop existing. I don't want to live in a world without real, live books.

Plus, you can't exactly read your Nook in the bathtub now, can you?

Our family activity yesterday was putting away the Christmas decorations. I say "family activity" loosely—Haley was away at a friend's house, and the putting-away process tends to remind Kendell of just how many decorations I've accumulated so he stayed upstairs (you know...not freaking out). That left us a "family" of four...me and three boys who sort of don't really care a whole lot about Christmas decorations. They did get all the ornaments off the tree, and box up their own (this is the fun part!), but the rest—the wrapping in bubble wrap, the organizing and sorting and packing into boxes—was left to me.

Putting away the Christmas decorations always causes me to look forward. With each item I put away, I wonder: who will I be when I get this Santa back out? Who will I be when I unwrap this nativity? How will the kids have changed when they unbox their ornaments? Sometimes I have even written letters to my future self, telling her what I hope will have happened. Some Januaries, I am full of hope: the upcoming year is going to be great! This time I will finally _________________.

This year, being hopeful seems too hard. Not in a poor-me sort of way, but in a realistic, let's-be-honest, come-on-now approach. I know what I hope to accomplish by next December, but they are such old, recycled goals, things I have been hoping for or working on for more than a decade. Why would this year, 2011, be the year I finally manage to accomplish those things, when all the other years weren't? What might it take for my life to change enough for those things to happen, and would I even recognize myself if they did? Maybe simply hoping for those things is as far as I will ever get.

Don't get me wrong—I still have my list of resolutions. I want to do more and be more and succeed more. I want to lose twenty pounds and read fifty books and run at least four races. I want to floss more consistently and eat less cheese. I want to grow closer to my kids and become a better wife and be a better friend. These are the most important things, of course: the quality of my relationships. But there's always that little voice reminding me of what I haven't succeeded at yet. I'm disappointed in myself that I haven't figured out how to answer that voice. I also wish it would whisper to me how.

Who will I be when I see, say, this nativity again:

 
(I inherited this from Kendell's Grandma Leola; every year when I set it out he reminds me that he thinks it's ugly, but I love it. It's unique and it reminds me of a woman I didn't know well but who helped to shape him.)

I'm not sure. Probably I will be more of the same. Still in the process of raising teenagers and 'tweens with all the joyful sharpness that entails; still caught in the bittersweetness of watching my youngest continue to grow up. Still deeply unsure about the quality of my life and my decisions, about how much happiness I might deserve and what happiness is anyway; still questioning and searching and wondering. I want to believe that big changes can still happen, that I have more to look forward to than endings. But I don't know how to make myself hope for beginnings anymore.

One of my resolutions this year: do more fun stuff with the kids. I tend to wait until everything's perfect and everyone's home and the stars, planets, and moons have aligned, but I am trying to be more spontaneous. So this afternoon, I packed up Nathan and Kaleb and took them to Jump On It, which is a big warehouse filled with trampolines. They jumped and bounced and even flipped to their hearts' content. Happy kids! Their only disappointment was that I wouldn't jump with them, but seriously: even though I used to be fairly good at trampoline jumping, I havehad several children. 'Nuff said.

After more than an hour, they were both thirsty, hot, thirsty, exhausted, and thirsty, so we found their shoes, got in the car, and drove home. [Let me interrupt the flow of the narrative right now to say: I bet when you read "trampolines," "kids," and "miracles," you totally thought someone had broken a bone, didn't you? And the miracle was that no one broke his neck? Well, I suppose that is a miracle, too. Not the one I speak of, but one I needed to mention anyway, because I was terrified the entire time I was watching them that someone was going to break his neck. Interruption over.] It was only after I drove the boys home, dropped them off, drove over to the high school to pick up Haley, and started driving towards a different high school did I realize: I left my camera.

Let me emphasize that: I left my camera at Jump On It. Which was crowded with people. Plenty of teenagers. I left my camera. I LEFT MY CAMERA.

Confession: I freaked out. I swore and berated myself and swore some more. I drove home way too fast. I swore some more. Haley assured me that no one would steal it, someone would turn it in, I would get it back. I swore some more. I pointed out my stupidity and the brilliance of whichever jerk stole it, because who wouldn't just grab a big camera bag someone stupid left?

Then I called to see if anyone had turned it on. I described it for the nice man on the line, and he said "wait! there's a dude leaving right now, and he has a Canon! What if he's stealing it?" and I shrieked "go ask him!" Because yeah, if he was stealing it, he'd be all "hey, yeah, I was going to take this home with me, but because you asked, well, here, I'll give it to you." The guy sort of paused like he was thinking I was crazy, and then he put the phone down so he could look for my camera.

Bad news: he couldn't see it. I gave him my cell phone number, and my name, and asked him to call him if anyone turned it in. Then Haley and I got in the van and drove back. To make things more complicated, the very easy way to get to Jump On It is severely complicated by the removal of an old bridge over the freeway, so it took twenty two excruciating minutes to get back there, exacerbated by 5:00 traffic. I seriously pondered whether or not I should be driving, my heart was pounding so hard.

Just as we were getting off the freeway (but don't be fooled: there were still five-ish more miles of construction-riddled back roads to work through), my cell phone rang. Miracle of miracles, the guy had found my camera. Right where I left it, under the chair where I sat while watching the kids jump. I nearly burst into tears, except I didn't want to get too relieved. What if it was someone else's camera? (Someone else dumb enough to leave their camera under a chair!) So my heart kept pounding and my hands shook until I finally got there, went inside, and saw it: my camera! Safe and sound! Not stolen. Not broken. Not lost.

It might be outdated and old. It might get confused sometimes on how to expose photos correctly. But I am grateful to have it back anyway.

It's a miracle, I tell you. A miracle!