Unfinished posts

How many unfinished blog posts do you have?

I have 22.

They date back to January.

Is this normal?

Do any of you begin a post and then either get distracted by life, or just hit a block? How long do you let it sit there? Do you ever finish these? Should they be finished, or abandoned? I've noticed that once I start a post, if I don't complete it within a day, I usually let it slip away. I'm not sure why.

What do you think?

Delete? or Salvage?

The Tea Party

One fine September day, the girl child had the sniffles and a fever. It was a school day.

Not just any school day. It was Friday, a special day, the day of the Tea Party. A day most eagerly anticipated.

The sick child was made to stay home. To rest. To miss the Tea Party.

She cried.

The mother soothed. The mother made an offhand, un-thought-out promise to the crying child. Something about a tea party. The girl was noncommittal. The mother was subconsciously relieved.

Later, the child remembered the promise. Asked sweetly, Mommy, when are we going to have our tea party?

The mother was noncommittal.

It was raining. The mother was tired. Nobody felt well. Was that the beginning twinge of a headache? To let her child down, to break the offhand, un-thought-out promise, would not have been unexpected. I rather believe it was expected. It would have been forgiven.

But...

I went to the store. In the rain. For tea party supplies. Namely, tea limeade. And cookies. Specifically, Central Market Cranberry Walnut cookies. So. Very. Yummy.

A special table was set, complete with flowers (faux). Individual china tea cups were chosen. We dressed up. I wore a dress. Not nice slacks and a fancy blouse. A real dress. The boy was invited. He dressed up (voluntarily).

We drank our fake tea. We ate gobbled our cookies. We laughed. The girl's heart was cheered. We chatted. We took goofy pictures. When the fake tea was spilled, we laughed. The girl's heart was cheered.

The girl smiled. The mother's heart was cheered.

I must confess to you that I am proud of this moment. Because, quite frankly, I rarely live up to my own expectations. But every now and then, I stumble upon some hidden virtue within myself and manage to do something I feel proud of. It was admittedly a small thing, a fleeting moment in our lives.

I cling to these moments.

But then, it's really not about me. I am ever increasingly thankful for my children. For their gentle, believing, forgiving hearts. For their unwavering, persistent faith in me, their mother, to get it right.

Guinea pig dreams

My son is currently waging a great campaign. The Great Guinea Pig Campaign of 2009. He wants one. Desperately. A few library books have injected the months-old campaign with renewed vigor.

Yesterday in the car, he was presenting his case and making grand plans. What color it would be, what he would name it, how it would take care of it, how he would protect it from the cat, etc. He mused out loud about whether he should get a male or a female.

J: I think I would want it to be a female, so it could have babies. Then we could give them to other people. [a pause, and a sweet dreamy smile] You know, spread the happiness around.

For all of his pessimistic nature, sometimes the boy is just so wistfully optimistic. It's sweet, isn't it?

And in case you missed it: guinea pig = happiness.

What I am reading

This post is in response to Raji's question posed in response to my last post. Um, not sure that made sense.

Her question got me thinking about my motivations.

For background, what spurred my reentry into the reading world was reading the A Series of Unfortunate Events series with my son. Details, if you are interested, here.

I started with Moby Dick. A little ambitious, eh? I actually got the book on CD from the library and tried to listen to it. That was in January. I couldn't get through it in the 3 weeks allotted by the library. I checked it out again later and got a little further. But I have since concluded that listening is not the way to go with this one. I need to put my eyes on the page. Too many big words. Listening and driving = not enough attention paid to either activity. So this one's a work in progress. It is a challenge. You could say it is my Moby Dick. (Okay, I just read that sentence and agree that it is groan-inducingly lame, but I'm leaving it in.)

I think that is the motivation behind my reading a great deal of the books I am reading - the challenge. I am trying to catch up on a lot of the classics that I somehow missed in high school and college (I minored in English lit, yet I missed so much!) It's a lot about the challenge. But that's not enough. It's also about the enjoyment. It has to be.

Here are a few of the books I've finished recently and why I chose them.

• Peter Pan, by J.M. Barrie. This one I planned to read on my own, but ended up sharing it with my daughter, which was magical. It is now a favorite that I will read again.
  
• Night, by Elie Wiesel - This was a difficult read, but worth it.
  
• The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath - I read this just because I had always heard of it, but never read it. I had no idea when I picked it up what it was about, nor did I know anything about the author. I liked it.
  
• Persuasion, by Jane Austen - Because it's Jane Austen.
  
• Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl - Read with my daughter.
  
• Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, by Roald Dahl - Also read with my daughter. Roald Dahl is a favorite in our house.
  
• The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy, by Jeanne Birdsall - I intended to read this to my kids, but started it on my own, just to see if it was age-appropriate and interesting. It was interesting, but ended up being just for me.
  
• Old Yeller, by Fred Gipson - I read this one because I thought it would be good to read with my son. Again, I ended up not sharing it. But I loved it! Absolutely loved it.
  
• Wuthering Heights, By Emily Bronte - Not at all what I expected; quite a strange tale.
  
• I'm a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away, by Bill Bryson - I had read one or two of his other books in the past. The man is funny. Laugh out loud funny.

One of the first things I picked up this year was a book of short stories by J.D. Salinger. It was delicious. I'm currently in the middle of The Hobbit and it is awesome! I am having so much fun.

So, I don't know where you should start, but it really doesn't matter. Half of the books I listed above are children's books. (Another favorite: The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, by Kate DiCamillo.) Chick lit sounds good; I wouldn't mind reading a good fluffy love story. I also always enjoy a good tale of suspense from Mary Higgins Clarke, just for fun. Predictable, but still fun. I'd like to find a good biography. Years ago I read a good one on Lincoln.

I could go on and on.

Ooh - I'm also in the middle of The Princess Bride, but had to return it to the library because someone else placed a hold on it. But now I have a hold on it, heh-heh. And thanks to Goodreads, I won't forget what page I was on.

Share with me your favorites so I can add them to my to-read list!

My Own Reading Adventure

About 9 months ago, when I began blogging in earnest, one of the things I wrote about was my rediscovery of reading for pleasure. I began to pick up a few books here and there, just reacquiring my taste for the world of words.

This summer, I began to more systematically read through the (many!) titles on my 'want-to-read' list.

By the way, to this end, I discovered a great tool for keeping track of my book lists - Goodreads.com, which is actually a social networking site for readers. The literary Facebook. The idea is to create a network of friends and post book reviews to share with each other, but I have no friends, and I'm okay with that. I have yet to write a review. And that's okay, too. I mainly use the site to keep track of the books I have read, the books I want to read, and the books I am currently reading. Tracking this progress is very satisfying. So now, whenever I hear about a good book (on someone's blog, or listening to NPR, or reading the paper, or wherever), I can find the book on the site and add it to my "to-read" list, instead of jotting it down in crayon on the back of that HEB receipt from my purse whose fate is to be lost forever. Awesome.

Upon checking my progress since July, I found that I have read 10 books in the past 2 months! Wow. This includes a couple of books that I read with my daughter, but still. I'm pretty sure that's more than I read in the previous 5 years (10 years?).

The other day I was telling a friend how I had been catching up on my reading lately and she asked me, "When do you read?" I understood her to mean, "When do you find the time to read that much?" It's a good question. I have 2 kids. These kids have homework and various other activities and needs. I have a husband that I enjoy spending time with. I have a job (part-time, but somewhat consuming). I have a house to maintain. I have bills to pay. I like TV. There's the old man cat (I tell you, he's trouble.) When in the world am I reading?

I read:

• while waiting for the bus that takes me from my parking garage nearer to my office
• while riding on the bus
• while walking up the hill to my office
• while stopped at traffic lights (I NEVER read while actually driving - you've seen people do this, right? I do not.)
• while the kids are otherwise occupied and don't need me (although I have found that when I pick up my book, often that ignites a spark in my daughter who says, "Mommy, let's read my book!" And we do.
• while lying in bed before sleep
  

These are not great spans of time. It's a little here and a little there. Slow and steady wins the race, so I've read.

But time is only one side of it. The other is desire. My husband has a saying: "People do what they want to do." Boy, that little phrase used to irk me no end. (Do any of your husbands have their own pithy observations like this?) Translation: You may say you want to do something, and for sure you even believe that you want to do it, yet you expend no effort to actually do it, meaning you don't really want to do it. Because if you really wanted to, you would.

The bottom line: I do what I want to do. I want to read. It matters to me. So I make it happen.

Apparently, though, I don't want to exercise.

The Reading Adventure

Today I got to wondering. Is one ever really satisfied when arriving at the end of a book? I often feel vaguely disappointed when arriving at the final sentence.* Either the book itself was unsatisfying, or the book was so very enjoyable, that coming to the end of it could be nothing but a terrific let down. I'm generalizing, of course, grabbing the extreme examples, but am I the only one? Does this happen to you?

*The major exception to this (in my experience) is the Bible. Always satisfying. Never a let down.

Well, I know I am not completely alone, as I witnessed my daughter experience this today. We have been working on Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator for the past few weeks. We almost finished last night, but had to stop at the next-to-last chapter. So close. Today, with excitement, we picked up the book to finish the final chapter.

I was sitting on one end of the couch; she was at the other end facing me. When I came to a picture, I would turn the book for her to see, watch her expression, wait for the giggle, then turn the book back around to continue the reading. When I came to the last page (which also had a picture), I read to the last sentence and then turned the book to her so she could see the picture. I was watching her face carefully. She took in the picture, and when she looked away, that's when I realized that she didn't realize it was the end. And so, reluctantly, I told her, "That's the end."

The expression on her face spoke volumes. Utter disappointment. And slight bewilderment. Betrayal, even? It was as if I had slung a bucket of water in her face. She had to know we were close to the end, she knew it was the last chapter. But she was not prepared for the end. She was immersed in the adventure, waiting expectantly to hear what antics Charlie and his crew would engage in during their White House visit. But that will remain forever a mystery (unless there is another sequel that we don't know about).

It was a let down.

Until we picked up a new book...

And the adventure continues...