Lorene

My Aunt Lorene has been diagnosed with Alzheimers and her daughter is her primary caregiver. Recently, her daughter wanted to attend a family party, and I had the wonderful opportunity to stay with Lorene for the evening. Although she has always been one of my favorite aunts, I hadn't seen Lorene in quite a while and I was afraid she wouldn't remember me. I don't believe she did remember me at first, although I could tell she was trying. Later in the evening though, she looked me straight in the eye and said quite clearly: "I remember you. I do. I remember your laugh."

Lorene has been my favorite aunt since childhood because she invariably made me feel good about myself. She and Uncle Frank always treated me like I could be anyone and do anything I wanted. And that I should dream big. My parents tried to teach me the same things, but I grew up in a house filled with illness and my parents had literal hell and an hourly fight on their hands to keep my sister alive, let alone thriving, let alone keeping the household, myself and my brother running like a fine clock. And, honestly, sometimes you just have to hear things like "you're wonderful" from people other than your parents for it to finally reach you. I mean, you kinda figure that your parents HAVE to lie to you like that, right? Anyway, my Aunt Lorene and Uncle Frank were my parents' Greek chorus: repeating the message my parents tried to send us kids in between therapy and medications and mowing the lawn.

The fact that my aunt remembers, of all things, my laugh, humbles me. And says, I believe much more about the depths of wisdom in her heart than much else could.

Take that, Alzheimers.

Favorite Lyric: Rusty Cage by Chris Cornell

Great song from Soundgarden, covered by Johnny Cash, among others:

You wired me awake
And hit me with a hand of broken nails
You tied my lead and pulled my chain
To watch my blood begin to boil

But I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

Too cold to start a fire
I'm burning diesel, burning dinosaur bones
I'll take the river down to still water
And ride a pack of dogs

I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

Hits like a Phillips head Into my brain
It's gonna be too dark
To sleep again Cutting my teeth on bars
And rusty chains,
I'm gonna break my Rusty cage and run

When the forest burns
Along the road Like God's eyes In my headlights
When the dogs are looking
For their bones
And it's raining icepicks
On your steel shore

I'm gonna break
I'm gonna break my
I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run

The Read-'Em-If-You've-Got-'Em Reading Challenge: The Who Version

I'm not a bibliophile, although you wouldn't know it from my shelves. I'm a reader, and one of the results is I have lots of books. I've been gradually making the transition to electronic books, but it's slow-going when you've accumulated the number of physical books I have. Of course, when you have a lot of books, you tend to get creative with the storage: storing books behind books, stuffing end-tables, the reader's version of feathering the nest, as it were. Anyway, I took a restock of my hide-away bookshelves and realized that, through the course of a decade, I have accumulated some 144 Doctor Who novels. Well, to be exact, 144 hard-back and paper-back novels -- otherwise known as Dead Tree (aka DT) books. I bought these things, even paying outrageous shipping costs to have a good number of them airlifted from Britain, because I sincerely wanted to read them.

Reality check: I've read exactly five of these novels in the past five years.

How sad. I still want to read them. I'm a fan in good standing for several decades -- the Who franchise, after all, is almost as old as I am. I was two when the series first aired and even though it took a while for PBS to air it in the states, Who hit the US during my so-called formative years and I feel the good Doctor and I have grown up together. It's a kind of comfort food for the mind, I suppose. And now, the powers-that-be in the BBC are releasing the New Who series of books for the Kindle -- no shipping fees! -- and I'm anxious to read them, too.

But the reality is, I really need to get a handle on the Dead Tree situation in my house. It's off the chain between the books I've read and love and keep, and the books I've yet to read. So, here's my new challenge and a reading resolution for 2010: read fully half of the DT Who novels I already have. That will be 70 books to be devoured this year, just from the Whovian division. I'll squeeze in some other stuff, of course. I'm a Gemini, after all, and I have to satisfy the other twin, the one that's all serious and stuff. It'll be an interesting challenge and I'm looking forward to it. So, if any Whocentric reviews or notes show up on the blog, you'll be forewarned. Feel free to shake your head and pass on by. I'll be busy reading when/if you get back.

Happy birthday, CJ

I miss you, doll. Oh, and Happy birthday, Dr. Dan!

Rex Stout: Not Quite Dead Enough and Booby Trap

Rex Stout: Not Quite Dead Enough and Booby Trap: Two Nero Wolfe Mysteries is, as the title suggests, two short mysteries under one cover. Both feature Archie Goodwin in uniform. ::flutter:: Neither tale was up to Wolfe's usual standards. Both were too short to get a real feel for, but there were some laugh-out-loud moments and I thought each was certainly worth the bit of time it took to read them. Recommended as a quick pick-me-up.

In an unrelated note, I had a customer name come across my desk today: Rex Wolfe. I do believe someone's parental units were fans...

DNF: E X Ferrars: Skeleton in Search of a Closet

I stumbled across this one and loved the title. I just didn't bother past chapter one, thus the DNF (Did Not Finish). I don't normally review my DNF's, but I just wanted to say that there was nothing wrong with this book really, it's just not my cuppa. About the fourth time I was having to read a description of how someone took off their coat and where it was put and what someone was dressed in -- in detail-- and it apparently had nothing to do with what was going on, I gave up. I mean, hey, I get up in the morning, take my shower, brush my teeth, put on undies, pants, top, my watch, brush my hair... but I don't think anyone should be bored to tears with that kind of detail. I got up and went to work. I assume you understand I did all the usual stuff it takes to get to that point. I have a peeve about that kind of writing. Can't help it. Won't change it. Sorry. If you've got a story to tell, get to it already. Life is short and my TBR (To Be Read) pile is endless.

Shirley Jackson: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Have Always Lived in the Castle has been on my TBR list since I was in my late teens, back when pterodactyl ruled the not-so-friendly skies. If you've not read it, I can only say: do so. It's not a mystery per-se but it sure feels like one. There's not much I can say about it which will not spoil it majorly other than the simple cover story: a family is wiped out by poison, leaving only two daughters, and an uncle who managed to survive the poisoning but only just. After saying that, it may sound strange to say it is a delightful book, but it is. Delightful and disturbing and certainly something that will linger in your head for a long, long time. I really like dear little Merricat when she decries the need to leave her home for "the simple need for books and food" -- in that order. I can so relate to that. WHALINC was worth the wait. I wish I'd gotten hold of it sooner.

Agatha Christie: By the Pricking of My Thumbs

Wow, another Christie detective duo I'd not been aware of: Tommy and Tuppance. Have I been living on the moon, or what? I like Tommy and Tuppance much better than Frankie and Freddie, but that could have something to do with my age. Tommy and Tuppance just felt as though they had more substance, and certainly they have more life experience. By the Pricking of My Thumbs is quite a bit darker than Why Didn't They Ask Evans? What starts as a suspected elder abduction twists into a cold case of child murder. A case someone wants very much to remain cold. Christie twists the plot into multiple layers and doesn't hold back on the wit or charm to temper the horror. It's quite a good read. I'm looking forward to reading more of Tommy and Tuppance.

Rex Stout: Fer-de-Lance

Fer-de-Lance marks the debut of Nero Wolfe, but there is no stumbling here. Like Athena, he seems to pop forth fully formed from the brain of Zeus. The scene where Wolfe tries to comprehend golf in 60 seconds or less was priceless. I love the humor and the spunk of the Wolfe mysteries. They've just got their own sensibility and you really feel like you've just walked into Stout's world and he's winking off-stage saying, enjoy, don't you wish you could live here? I do, indeed. I have a goal of reading/re-reading every Nero Wolfe story at least once before I die. And Kindle, eReader, Fictionwise, etc, need to get off their duffs and get these in e-format. I've been slurping up Stout's omnibuses (is that a word?) as fast as I can find them. My grandfather once upon a time had several Nero Wolfe novels way high up on his bookshelf, but I was way too young back then to appreciate them. ::attempting to kick self -- not a pretty sight:: Youth is wasted on the young.

Agatha Christie: Sad Cypress

This mystery, I think, was much better than Why Didn't They Ask Evans? Sad Cypress starts with what you would expect to be the ending: the suspect in the dock, accused of double homicide. As Poirot reluctantly begins his investigation, he finds that everything points to the accused being guilty. But Poirot decides it all fits too neatly. He turns contrarian and sets out to free his woman. So to speak. Christie's up to her usual misdirection and does it quite well. I'm surprised this isn't one of her more famous tales. It really is quite good.