Yes, David. I'm updating my blog.

But I'm in the process of transferring these posts to http://ifearnofateforyouaremyfate.blogspot.com, since I created this blog with a gmail account I never use. Stay tuned.

September Books

Yay for actually following through on a blog "project" for once.

I only read nine books this month, and only seven if you don't count the ones I read aloud to David (and I usually don't). I realize that me fretting about finishing only nine books is kind of ridiculous, but I have 370 on my book list, and it's growing every day. So, you know. Perspective.

Wild Swans: was an autobiography/biography Jung Chang wrote about herself, her mother, and her maternal grandmother's experiences in communist China. It took me a while to get through it, but it's written really well and definitely showed me a lot of new experiences (which is what I love about memoirs). However, a lot of the material is absolutely heartbreaking; towards the end of the book, the author describes murders and suicides with a nonchalance that shows better than any narrative description how commonplace these tragedies were. Would recommend.

Love You, Mean It: is about the friendship between four widows kindled by the deaths of their husbands on 9/11. I cried almost the whole way through it. It wasn't as political as I thought it would be. It mostly focused on the widows' acceptance and recovery instead of the anger/trauma they felt about the terrorist attacks.

The Poems of Richard Wilbur: is a collection I bought for an assignment when I took American Lit with Boone. I skimmed the book for a few poems that I felt I could write about and then ignored it until this month. It does contain one of my most favorite poems, the one about laundry day (which, coincidentally, was my inspiration for the title of this blog). I'm not really a poetry person, though, no matter how much I try. So I guess I fail at being literate in that respect.
Sidenote: Pablo Neruda is one of the few poets I love, and if you haven't, you should see the film Il Postino, which is about the bff-ness between Pablo Neruda and his postman. I don't really know if it's based on a true story or not...either way, it's worth it.

I Kissed Dating Goodbye: is one of the books David and I bought to read together and...erm...make fun of. (shame face) So if you're looking for a sincere opinion about this book, go look somewhere else. I think the concept of refraining from physical affection between Christian couples can be cute and sincere and lovely, but I never really bought into it myself, and I think a lot of the time it's steeped in hypocrisy and holier-than-thou-osity. Joshua Harris' writing leaves something to be desired (ha! Cos it's about resisting desire and temptation...anyway...), to put it nicely. Some of my favorite parts were when Harris'd say something like, "Don't come off as smug and superior," cos he TOTALLY came off like he thought he deserved first place in heaven. David and I liked it enough to look for the sequel about Harris courting his wife and I totally found it cos I am the best thrift store treasure-hunter ever so there's a review to look forward to or possibly ignore if you think I'm a jerk.

Wonder Boys: I picked up because I already own The Mysteries of Pittsburgh because it's about Pittsburgh!, but this one came first on my list. Chabon's writing kind of reminds me of a toned-down Palahniuk, which is definitely a good thing. It was funny and I finished it within a few days. Would recommend.

Dead as a Doornail: was weird, even for a Charlaine Harris novel. I mean, it was okay. But it's probably my least favorite of the series so far. More vampires, fewer naked old men (wolves?) fighting to the death, please. Also fewer Sookie tragedies. It's starting to make me wonder if she'll eventually lose a limb or something to propel the plot.

Vanity Fair's Tales of Hollywood: would have been a lot better had I known about more than three movies (of the twelve, maybe?) it discussed. It was like the movie trivia on IMDB except 300 pages long. If that's what you're into.

Olive Kitteredge: was amazing, though not very cheerful. It's about an older woman and her relationship with her husband, but also about several characters in their little New England town. I probably would have identified with it more had I been closer to the narrator's situation (children getting married, growing older, accepting it), but I would still recommend it.

Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion: Fascinating. It was what it sounds like: Dr. Cialdini explains why we're influenced the way we are and how we can ignore or overcome sales gimmicks to ensure we are consumers because we want to be, not because we got tricked. Would recommend.

Book reviews...sort of

I find myself becoming increasingly jealous of people who can summarize books they've read a decade or so ago. I often can't remember the plot of that-one-book-I-read-in-April,-what-was-its-name-again?, and I'm taking steps to prevent this from happening. Or at least taking steps to have a document I can pull up and remember what I thought of the book at the time. Here are my August books (so far) and what I think of them.

Club Dead: This is kind of an awkward start to this project because this is the third book in Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse Southern vampire mystery series, better known as the inspiration for HBO's True Blood. David's aunt kindly gave us her collection of the series and we've been reading through them whenever we have a mo'. The characters/writing aren't great, but the plot is what you'd expect from a series that is about vampires and other supernatural creatures. The series is much better than Twilight, which is all I wanted (though not hard to achieve).

Sophie's Choice, William Styron: I confused this book with Sophie's World for a while, and I'm glad I can now differentiate the two. This details the (fictional) experiences of an Auschwitz survivor. It took me about a week to read, but I loved every second of it. There are literary allusions galore, dynamic characters, and believable events. It almost read like a memoir, especially since the narrator, Nathan, is an aspiring novelist. Would recommend.

The Little Prince/Le Petit Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery: The cutest children's story ever. I've read both the French and English versions and can't decide which I like better. It's meant for children, but has sweet moments that adults can enjoy, too. And it has an illustrated snake that I actually find kind of precious. See?

Adorable.

The Bone People, Keri Hulme: I almost stopped reading this book in the middle, but that's similar to breaking the highest moral law to me, so I finished as quickly as possible. It's about the abusive, but at the same time loving, relationship between an adopted son, his father, and a woman they happen to latch onto. It takes place in New Zealand and the characters speak a mixture of Maori tribe dialect and English. The diction was very difficult for me to get into, so reading each sentence took a great deal of effort, and to be honest, it wasn't really worth it. I hoped it would be a postcolonial novel but didn't really get that sense.

The Ten Year Nap, Amy Wolitzer: Like a fictional version of The Feminine Mystique. Quite a few women who ended up being stay-at-home moms regret or reevaluate that decision. I loved the feminist aspects of this novel (there was a contingent of women in a consciousness-raising group who felt their daughters had betrayed their fight for women's equality), but it had virtually no plot to speak of, and the characters didn't grow much. I don't regret reading, but probably would not recommend unless the reader had lots of free time, and that description fits nobody I know.

Shattered Dreams, Irene Spencer: Absolutely fascinating memoir written by a woman who grew up in the Mormon church. She detailed her life from a starving child fighting for the affection of her father to a plucky woman starving for the affection of her husband (whom she shared with at least six other wives). Would recommend to anyone even slightly interested in the Mormon religion, even though it was heartbreaking at times.

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Rebecca Wells: I bought and read this book because I remember watching the movie with my mama. I liked it, for the most part, but I still liked the movie better, probably because I have happy memories associated with it.

The Polysyllabic Spree: "The hilarious and true account of one man's struggle with the monthly tide of the books he's bought and the books he's been meaning to read." This collection of columns by Nick Hornby is MY LIFE, you guys. Ironically, I bought the book at a time when I felt my book list was lagging (????), hoping for recommendations to add. Now I find myself passing over any promising books he writes about because my book list is totally out of control.

That's all for now. I probably should've saved this for the end of the month but school is starting soon and I felt I should do it while I still have the patience. S'later.

Summer

I am awful at updating blogs. My life makes me very happy, but I'm kind of a homebody who doesn't do much more than play cards, read, and watch TV shows with my husband, so it's not exactly like I have much to update on. However, it has been several months, so here's a brief list of OMG! stuff that's happened:

• In April I got a job at Panera working in the bakery from 6 AM - 2 PM Monday through Friday. It started out being awesome having nights and weekends off from the easiest job ever. Then it became increasingly less so week after week of going to bed at 9 PM (or, shamefully, earlier...) and waking up at 5. Also my boss randomly shouted at me one day and it was awkward but we talked and he apologized but it was still awkward and I got sick, so I quit early (like, two weeks ago). The end. Also, asiago bagels are the. best. ever.
  
  
• My grandpa, the sweetest man on earth, got really sick and I went to Nebraska to visit him. We had a few meaningful and emotional conversations that we probably wouldn't have had otherwise, which was wonderful. He had bypass (but really more than one. Bypasses? Byspass? Quadpass? This is silly) surgery and got better so I went home. Then I brought David back with me a month later and we hung out and became obsessed with croquet (seriously) and scored a free set (thanks, cousin's friend's mom!) and now it just sits sadly against the wall in our apartment, dwelling on the beautiful relationship we once had, probably. Also I met David's maternal side of the family in Missouri and hopefully made a favourable impression, except for the tried-to-wear-shorts-to-church thing. Oops. Also David's grandma requested a grandchild for her marriage toast to us, which is problematic cos we're not expecting one of those for oh, about five years.
  
  
• I read (and bought) lots of books and David and I watched lots of shows. Finished: Flight of the Conchords, The Office. Almost finished: Gilmore girls, The West Wing, True Blood, Secret Diary of a Call Girl whatsit, House. Currently obsessed with: Dexter. We're saving Doctor Who for later. We also play Pinochle along with Nertz now. Eventually we'll move onto Bridge.
  

• I'm planning on doing the nursing school thing at Pitt, but unfortunately English credits don't work toward a nursing degree, so I'm basically starting over as a freshman. Right now I'm hoping to work at some sort of women's clinic after graduation (in 2014, which SLAYS ME).
  
  
• I don't hate roller coasters as much as I used to.
  
  
• We watched Whip It and now David has all these aspirations of me becoming the next Babe Ruthless but I'm pathetic on roller skates so tough break, kid. Nevertheless, it's fun.
  
  
• I still don't cook. Ever. Sorry, Mom. My cooking prowess will be delayed until David gets tired of being the chef or I run out of books to read aloud to him while he's in the kitchen.
  

I think that's it. See you in another three months.

Life Goals

I was digging through my box of "Stuff to Keep" looking for 2009 pay stubs and I came across my life goal list from May of '06. I don't remember much of what I was doing then; it's weird how just a few years have passed, but I've got my summers all jumbled together. I can't remember if that was the summer of the Fantastic Four, or the summer I missed my best friend Jon terribly while starting to work at my first "real" job. Either way, this list is incredibly silly, and the only thing I can remember about typing it up is that I insisted on using a typewriter and it took me at least a week to get through all 180 items without any major typos.

Quite a few of them are puerile (my new favourite word), most of them were a 16-year-old's attempt at wisdom (example: "Don't forget the past and don't forget to learn from it"), some of them I've outgrown, but a few of them are still true today, and I found myself crossing quite a few off as I was re-reading the list. I have no plans to type out all of these goals, but I will share a few that made me smile.

- Have a fantastic book collection.
- Buy and wear a hat that is not obnoxious. (Several of these goals include owning or buying frivolous clothing or doing girly things, since I was considered something of a tomboy.)
- Buy and wear a hat that is obnoxious.
- Buy and eat all the fruits accessible at a supermarket. (Apparently I was a glutton, or had hopes to become one.)
- Take a culinary class so I can make home-cooked meals for my family. (This made me shudder, though I'm sure I meant well. David called me a "domestic little whatsit" when I read it aloud to him.)
- Attain a well-rounded, solid, and possibly even cute nickname.
- Realize what independence is without going Thoreau. (This is my favourite.)

This is reserved for goals that may hold true today, but still are unlikely to happen:
- At the bookstore, get the book I want and then leave right away.
- Finish all my food when treated to dinner.
- Go a year eating no junk food at all.
- Hold a snake.
- Stop biting my lips.

Hope you enjoyed a glimpse of 16-year-old Heather. Maybe I'll take a page from her book and update my life goals list. The least that can come of it is another slightly deprecating blog post.

Appendicitis Adventures

<--- I don't have one of those anymore!

I've been home for quite a few hours, I've lost my playmate (David is sleeping), and I'd like to relate my adventures, so here we go. I actually started typing a very lengthy blog about my hospital stay but it was way too long so this will have to be more of a highlights blog.

Prologue: David and I ran errands all of Sunday afternoon, which led us to a Burger King to get the frozen Coke I'd been craving all week, a Wendy's for a delicious chicken sandwich, and finally home where I ate a PB&J and ordered a free mushroom pizza to eat while watching Swiss Family Robinson, a cute movie with lots of animals and the weakest female characters I've ever seen. My stomach started to hurt after the frozen Coke, but I thought it was just indigestion or hunger pains until about a half hour into the movie. My stomach hurt so much that I couldn't sit comfortably, it hurt incredibly every time I moved, and I didn't want David to touch me at all in case the pain increased. Worried, we looked up symptoms and decided it was food poisoning. I didn't quite buy into that diagnosis because David ate the same things I had and he felt fine. Still, we decided to see how things went overnight, since food poisoning typically goes away quickly. My pain diminished for a few hours before we went to sleep, so we rested assured that it was food poisoning and I would continue to feel fine in the morning when I woke up.

Wrong. The pain woke me up again about an hour after I'd fallen asleep, and then twice an hour after that. We had just seen Avatar Saturday afternoon and I remembered wishing/dreaming that we could go to the sacred place and transform my spirit into my avatar body, discarding this pain-ridden one. I woke up for good around 6:15 and tried to will myself to stay quiet so as to not disturb David, who had to write a five-page paper for law school Monday that was due today. Eventually that became impossible, so at about 7:00 I went downstairs and huddled under some blankets. Being the great husband that he is, David noticed and tried to get me to come back to bed, but I knew sleep was out of the question. He also got up and piddled about the house for a little, doing laundry and such, while I tried to be as quiet as possible and looked up more causes for abdominal pain on the web. It turns out that I matched all of the symptoms for appendicitis: abdominal pain different from any felt before that filled the entire abdomen before it localized just above the right hip, nausea, vomiting, loss of appetite, low-grade fever, chills, etc. We thought that since the pain had gone away for a few hours in the night, it might do the same that day, and decided to hold off on any hospital visits until the early afternoon if the pain was still around then. I couldn't make it past 9:30, so we packed a bag and took off for Shadyside Hospital.

Checking into the ER: I was checked in much faster than I ever have been before because appendicitis symptoms are a Big Deal. In a period of about three or four hours, I drank nasty medicine that made my insides glow, got a CT scan where they inject dye into the body (it feels like wetting your pants - not fun) to highlight internal trauma, and watched a terrible movie with Hillary and Haylie Duff. I couldn't have any pain medication at this time because doctors and nurses had to poke and prod to see where it hurt most to diagnose me, and I probably told David "It hurts" about fifty times. Finally my doctor came in and confirmed my suspicions: I had appendicitis, and I had to have surgery to cure it.

Not-so-fun fact: Harry Houdini died from appendicitis. It gets very serious very quickly, because when the appendix ruptures, it sprays Bad Things all over the vital organs and everything else in the abdomen. I caught onto the symptoms early enough that rupturing was extremely unlikely, but the smallest things can exacerbate it, like eating, drinking, and taking aspirin. I think that's why appendicitis comes with a loss of appetite - it's like the body is saying: "Hey, I'm sorry to be such a bother and get an inflamed appendix that hurts like crazy and could possibly kill you, but I'll make it up to you by taking away your hunger so you won't make it worse."

MIA: The anesthesiologist came in about a half hour after appendicitis was confirmed. I saw the blue scrubs and knew that meant my pain would decrease relatively soon (whether through pain medication or through surgery), so I sat up quickly and smiled. They looked at me like I was a Freak of Nature; apparently appendicitis patients aren't typically so "lively." My scrubbed hero told me he'd see me in the OR soon and explain how the procedure would go there, but I was wheeled away to my recovery room. I waited there for about an hour, chatting with my nurse and being poked and prodded by yet another doctor, who again confirmed that my appendix needed to come out, before someone realized the mistake and the OR people came to collect their patient. Just before surgery, the doctor who had re-diagnosed me gave me some pain medication, so I was extremely grateful to him. I might send him a thank you card.

The surgery: I was wheeled downstairs on a bed this time, which I was very excited about (being in a wheelchair makes me feel about 83), but I had to take my contacts out so most of the trip was literally a blur. I said goodbye to David, who had been a real trooper and stayed with me, listening to my groans and moans for several hours, and entered the pre-op room. Several of the OR people scolded me for being kidnapped, like I was supposed to have some clue about how hospital procedures went on, and complained about my nurse's failings (apparently I was supposed to sign some consent forms upon my diagnosis, which never happened). The anesthesiologist explained the procedure since the surgeon was already waiting for me and told me that my throat might be sore from being intubated. I remember having the mask pressed over my face and taking four deep breaths twice, but I don't remember falling asleep at all.

Staying overnight: I woke up either a little after or before 6:00 PM, very groggy and with doubleplus blurred vision from goo they put into eyes during the surgery to prevent scratched corneas. Some woman was moaning about wanting to go home and had to be physically restrained from taking out her oxygen, etc., either before or after open heart surgery, so all the people whirring around taking my vital signs were talking about how they liked me better because I wasn't difficult. I was shivering so violently upon waking that five cosy blankets were piled on top of me, and after removing my catheter and waiting twenty minutes to ensure I was awake, I got to go upstairs to my recovery room.

They told me my husband was MIA, but it turns out he was waiting in my hospital room because the OR waiting room was closed. I was glad to see him. I got awesome socks (which I am still wearing) and a fresh blanket, beef broth and orange ice for dinner (yuck), and a new awesome nurse named Janis who likes Ryan Reynolds movies and was really funny and nice. Leah, a junior in college, was in charge of taking my vital signs every four hours until I was released. She's about my age and we chatted and laughed with each other about her job, cranky patients, and how she's jealous that I look my age cos she still gets carded for buying R-rated movies. I got some pain medication about every 2-3 hours that made me extremely loopy and delayed my reactions, something that David teased me about later and made me break into giggles, which made me need more pain medication. He sat by me and took care of me for the rest of the night, helping me go to the bathroom (I had to tow along one of those IV coat rack things which was extremely difficult to manage), get adjusted in bed, and just taking really good care of me. We watched Flight of the Conchords and Just Friends before eventually falling asleep, with me waking him up occasionally in the night to help me and me waking up and buzzing Janis for more pain medication.

At home: We got back to the apartment at either 8:00 or 9:00 this morning and I went straight to sleep while my darling husband went to get my prescriptions filled and cleaned up downstairs. I've been awake now since about 11:30, just chilling in bed like I'll have to do the next couple of days. I'm still extremely sore in my belly. I have three inch-long incisions right below my belly button, above my left hip, and right above that place where older woman sometimes have baby bumps. It hurts to move, my throat is still sore and my voice hoarse from the intubation, my arm looks like a turtle shell from all the tape holding IV's, and it especially hurts to laugh because my organs feel sore, but I'm doing great. David is still sleeping peacefully beside me, but I wish he would wake up, but then I feel bad because he slept in a hospital chair last night while I got a cosy bed. Believe it or not, this post is much shorter than the one I originally wrote. If you made it all the way through, congratulations, and thanks for being a friend.

Married life & etc.

I suppose before I give an update on how my life is post-marriage, I should write about the marriage itself, but my brain doesn't always work that way. Still, now that I've reminded myself that's probably the best thing to do, I suppose I'll do it.

Shortly before Christmas, David and I decided to move up our wedding from March 7th to January 9th (originally the 10th, but we changed when we realized our best man had a flight out to school that day at 7 AM). We did this for many reasons, but mostly because something my mom said made me reconsider why we had been planning a March 7th wedding in the first place.

David and I often lightly considered eloping, because it fit our personalities better - we're both spontaneous and typically anti-tradition, and I hate being the center of attention, an obligatory misfortune that comes with being a bride that is easily avoided in elopement. We figured, though, that with me being the only female grandchild on my mom's side of the family and with David being the eldest son in his, both our families would be incredibly disappointed if we didn't have a huge ceremony.

It turns out that wasn't the case, so we revamped the wedding to happen on a weekend when both my parents happened to be in Pittsburgh (originally for a bridal showcase), flew up my brother from his vacation in Orlando and my best friend from Nebraska three days before her semester started, and started planning and decision-making with a vengeance. Or to be more correct, our mothers started planning, and we vetoed or approved as necessary in between trips to David's apartment to move me in and organize my belongings. You never realize just how much stuff you have until you have to pack it, lift it, settle in into a minivan, drive 17 hours through the night with it, lift it, carry it, unpack it, and organize it all over again...

Back to the wedding. The ceremony was small, just our immediate families and Jana and the minister, and happened in David's parents' home. Flowers were sponsored by Costco, the cake was a mutual effort by our moms, and the decorations were provided by two of Debbi's friends from church, Debbie and Karen (who graciously offered her home as a venue for wedding pictures, taken by David's mom). David's brother Brian was our best man and Jana our best woman. John Vaught, a former preacher at Steve and Debbi's church of Christ, officiated the ceremony for us beautifully. Several people teared up (not me!), Mom bawled, and my face almost hurt from smiling so much. The ceremony only lasted about 15 minutes, but I could not have asked for anything more. Afterwards, we went up to the Georgetowne Inn on Mt. Washington, which provides excellent food and a scenic overlook of Pittsburgh, hurriedly took a few pictures (with coats this time!), and said goodbye to everyone.

Since then, I've been lounging around the house doing various housewife-y tasks. I'm in the process of applying to Pitt and am casually browsing for jobs. I suppose it's only a matter of time before my inner work ethic and feminist crack and I stop washing dishes manically and start reading voraciously, but until then, I'm enjoying the break.

Love, Heather (Manes)