Memorable Memoir Reading Challenge?

Like many of us, I'm putting together my list of reading challenges for 2010. And something is missing.

Does anyone know of a Reading Challenge for memoirs? I love memoirs, and I was thinking how cool it would be to be part of a such a challenge. Diaries and letters could be included, too.

I'm thinking something like the Memorable Memoir Reading Challenge.

Does anything like this exist?

Or did I just create (and become the host) of this? Which if there is interest ....

The Sunday Salon: Thankfully Reading Weekend

I'm participating in the informal Thankfully Reading Weekend, and since I'm feeling behind in reading and blogging, I love this idea. What better way to get caught up on some of our reading and challenges - and to remember how much of a blessing it is be able to read in the first place?

I had to work on Friday (thankfully in a quiet office and not in retail - I don't know how salespeople keep their sanity this time of year, I really don't). Thus, I started my Thankfully Reading Weekend on Thanksgiving night by continuing Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street by Michael Davis.

I mentioned in last week's Salon that the beginning was a little tough going; the first 100 or so pages deals with Captain Kangaroo, the personalities that worked on that show, and the quest for funding for what would become Sesame Street.

At the halfway mark, now we seem to be cooking with gas. I'm especially enjoying reading about the background and selection of the cast members, which of course includes the birth of the Muppet characters.

"Grover's personality sprang to life fully formed in that rehearsal room. 'I recall Frank Oz holding the puppet that was to become Grover in front of the mirror,' [Jon] Stone said. 'The high, raspy voice fit immediately. The carefully precise diction fell into place. Then we played games with the names. I asked, 'What do you think your name is?' Grover would study himself in the mirror and try a few out. 'Armand? Hector? Perhaps my name is Grover.'" (pg. 167)

Can't you just hear Grover inquiring to his reflection about what his name is? I can, and Davis' book is bringing the characters and the scenes from the Street to life.

I'll have more to say in my official review, but I did discovered that author Michael Davis lives in the Philadelphia suburbs, in the same town as our very good friends. There are several readings and signings scheduled soon in the Philadelphia area, so if you're interested, you might want to check out Michael's website for details.)

In other bookish updates, during Friday's commute I started listening to Bait and Switch by Barbara Ehrenreich. Even though this was published in 2005, it still resonates today despite being slightly dated in parts. I'm only halfway through the second CD, but since it is only 6 hours long, I think I'll be finished sometime this week.

Whether you're participating in the Thankfully Reading Weekend or coming home from a thankful weekend (or some combination thereof), I hope you've had a great holiday (or simply a great weekend, for those who don't celebrate Thanksgiving.)

Reality Check (a Guest Post by The Dean with Commentary from Me)

After being together for nearly two decades now, The Dean and I have become that couple who knows what the other is thinking before the other espouses their opinion. Now, unbeknownst to one another, we're writing the same blog posts. En route to work yesterday (Friday), I was mentally composing a post about Tareq and Michaele Salahi, those Yahoos of the Week who breached security and crashed the White House dinner.

I was planning to use my soapbox here to propose that some legislator introduce, in post and in haste, a new law or amendment known as The YAAHoo! Law. The You're An AssHole Law would apply to people who demonstrate such behavior for the purposes of getting a reality show or promoting a reality show.

As I said, that was Friday. Later that night, I discovered that post had been written ... by none other than my husband, The Dean, who has allowed me to reprint excerpts here. Consider them his words and mine. Two for the price of one. (Just like in the immortal words - and how true they were - of Bill Clinton.) Enjoy.

When this reality TV bullshit started about 10 years ago, I knew that it would lead to the end of popular culture as we knew it. I didn't realize, however, that it would also lead to possible death of rescue personnel or a major breach of security at the White House. Even now, ten years later, I still cannot for the life of me discern what is entertaining about watching people - who you wouldn't let into your home if they were on your doorstep - enter your abode through the Idiot Box. Granted, they can't use the bathroom if you're must watching them on TV. But otherwise, I have never, ever, ever gotten the fascination with reality TV.

Recently, we went from the death of popular culture to the possible death of rescue personnel. That nearly happened when the asshole reality TV-wannabees Richard Heene and Mayumi Iizuka put the lives of countless rescue people in jeopardy as they tried to get their kid out of a giant instant popcorn tin that had floated away. Fortunately, no one was injured trying to save the phantom kid. Unfortunately, our society is not yet at a place where Richard and Mayumi would be taken out and shot immediately as their punishment for such foolishness.

Now, we have the assholes like Tareq and Michaele Salahi crashing the White House. First of all, why can't she spell her name like a normal person? It's Michelle you dumb bitch, not Michaele.

All of this is happening because now everyone wants to be on TV. I think it is time that Congress do something worthwhile for a change. There should be legislation passed immediately that says that if you do anything stupid in the name of trying to get on television, you, your accomplices and anyone who has 'friended' you on Facebook will be put to death with no trial. Period.

A bit harsh? I don't give a fuck. We have got to put an end to this scourge of reality TV and get back to the golden age when people who were celebrities had really done something worth celebrating.

This latest horror involved a couple of wanna-be reality TV assholes from Northern Virginia who crashed the White House's state dinner Tuesday night, penetrating layers of security with no invitation to mingle with the likes of Vice President Biden and White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel.

These Salahis are self-described "polo-playing socialites" whose claims to fame prior to Tuesday were a bitter family feud over a D.C.-area winery. These two idiots were slated to "star" in a forthcoming piece of celluloid bullshit called "The Real Housewives of Washington". They arrived at the White House and quickly posted on Facebook photos of themselves with VIPs at the elite gathering. "Honored to be at the White House for the state dinner in honor of India with President Obama and our First Lady!" one of them wrote on their joint Facebook page at 9:08 p.m.

There appears to be some discrepancy as to whether or not these two were or were not interlopers. A White House official initially said the couple was not invited to the dinner, not included on the official guest list and never seated at a table in the South Lawn tent. This was met by someone describing herself as a publicist for the Salahis who denied that they were trespassing. Pressed for details, this bimbo sent a statement saying simply: "The Salahis were honored to be a part of such a prestigious event. . . . They both had a wonderful time."

While the White House offered no official explanation, it appears to be the first time in modern history that anyone has crashed a White House state dinner. The uninvited guests were in the same room as President Obama, First Lady Michelle Obama and Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh.

"Everyone who enters the White House grounds goes through magnetometers and several other levels of screenings," said Ed Donovan - a spokesman for the Secret Service - unconvincingly. "That was the case with the state dinner Tuesday night. No one was under any risk or threat." How in the fuck would the Secret Service know? If they can't give me the blood types and Social Security numbers of every human who enters the White House, we have a problem, folks.

Donovan said a preliminary internal investigation has identified "a Secret Service checkpoint which did not follow proper procedure to ensure these two individuals were on the invited guest list." He declined to give further details. An administration official said the White House will conduct its own review. Gee, I hope so, as it's obvious the Secret Service can't be trusted to do it.

The Salahis, both claiming to be in their 40s, showed up about halfway through the guest arrivals. A Marine announced their names, and the couple -- he in a tux, she in a red and gold lehenga [which is apparently traditional Indian formal wear] -- swept past reporters and photographers, stopping several times to pose for pictures. They then walked into the White House lower hallway, where they mingled with guests on the red carpet before heading up to the cocktail reception in the East Room.

How could it happen? You could ask that question both about how these two pricks got into the White House as well as how American popular culture as sunk to such depths. A former White House senior staffer -- who more than a decade ago encountered a crasher at one of the executive mansion's less-fancy parties -- offered this theory: a savvy pair of crashers, dressed to the nines, might arrive on foot at the visitors' entrance, announce their names -- then express shock and concern when the security detail at the gate failed to find them on the guest list. On a rainy night like Tuesday, with a crowd of 300-plus arriving, security might have lost track of or granted a modicum of sympathy to a pair who certainly looked as though they belonged there. If their IDs didn't send up any red flags in the screening process, they would be sent through the magnetometers and into the White House.

Yes, you read that last part right. And yet, the former staffer noted, someone from the White House social office should have been posted at the guest entrance with the guards.

The Salahis seem to think they were destined for national fame via reality TV. Michaele, a razor-thin blond who used to be a Redskins cheerleader [meaning she not only can't pick a winner in husbands but lacks the skill to choose one in football teams], has apparently been in contention as one of the "Real Housewives" in the forthcoming D.C. edition of a Bravo cable series. Although Bravo has not officially finalized its cast - and I can imagine how painstaking a process that must be - its cameras have followed the couple at numerous parties.

Hours before the White House denied that the Salahis were legitimate guests, the Washington Post asked the couple - via Facebook - how they happened to attend the dinner. Tareq responded: "India is the challenger in the America's Polo Cup World Championships June 11/12 2010, and they are very excited in this first ever cultural connection being hosted on the DC National Mall since Polo is one of the primary sports in India." When pressed about why they did not appear on the official list, he added, "it was last-minute attending."

If I have my way, doing something like that again will be the last "last-minute" thing assholes like these two will ever do.

Time is NaNo More on My Side

Well, sad to say, it's time to face the NaNoWriMo music. Cue up the Rolling Stones. Tiiii-iiii-iiii-ime is not on my side.

Not even close.

Let's do the math, shall we?

I'm only at 18,180 words. In order to be a winner of NaNoWriMo, one must have 50,000 words. By midnight on Monday, November 30.

That translates into 10,666.67 words that I would need to write per day for the next three days. (The 666 part of that is kind of a sign that I'm doomed, don't you think?) Or, put it another way, I'd need to write 420 words an hour for the next 77 hours. With no break whatsoever.

Some diehards might say this is perfectly doable, but since I happen to enjoy the finer things in life like sleeping, eating, and going to the bathroom so this is not going to be happening this year.

And, you know what? I'm OK with that.

(um ... sorta).

With not finishing NaNoWriMo, that is. Not - let's be very clear - not the novel itself. There's too much invested on a personal level with that, so that will still go on. Just not via NaNoWriMo.

I kind of knew this would be the outcome, and I'll admit, in some ways this makes me sad. It's the perfectionist in me, the inner child who would never dare be seen with something as horrid as a Band-Aid on a boo-boo. That would, you see, be proof positive to the show the world that I screwed up, and that wasn't acceptable.

Now, as an adult who is psychologically mummified in Band-Aids from life's scrapes and bruises, this isn't as much of an issue as when I was a kid.

Nonetheless, it's still a little deflating.

Y'all know I've been kind of struggling with this project, and for a variety of reasons, this has been some of the hardest writing I've ever done. I'll admit, this is not how I write and it's not how I like to write. I write page by page, sentence by sentence, word by word. Maybe that's not "correct."

(If you ask Boo's second grade teacher, it's absolutely not. She forbids them to erase. They're 8, and they are not allowed to fucking erase. Believe you me, I asked her about this point-blank during parent-teacher conferences, and the answer was, "I just want them to get their thoughts down. There's no time for erasing and making things look nice and perfect." With that, I swore I heard my father, a mechanical engineer who I absolutely inherited my perfectionistic tendencies from, rolling in his grave.)

So NaNo has been tough for me because it has been really hard to just write without editing. Case in point: I'm the most pleased with the three excerpts I've shared, and those have been subject to a wee bit of editing and tweaking on my part, which is a big no-no in NaNo. Still, I'm glad I tried and I'm pretty pleased with having cranked out 57 pages. That's 57 pages and 18,180 words more than I had on Halloween.

To all those who finished (or who will most likely do so), I extend my most sincere congratulations. It's a tremendous accomplishment and you should be proud.

And to the ones like me who won't be finishing by the stroke of midnight, you've got company. Time may not be on your side ... but for what it's worth, I'm right there with you.

(photo taken by me in June 2009 at a Chuck E Cheese birthday party)

©Melissa of The Betty and Boo Chronicles 2008-2009. All rights reserved. If you're reading this on a site other than The Betty and Boo Chronicles or via its feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.

Material Girls ... and Boys, and Moms, and Dads

"You know that we are living in a material world and I am a material girl ...."

Material Girl ~ Madonna

Driving to work this morning, Lady Madonna was singing to me about raising interest (and not the variety from Citibank), boys and credit. As the Material Girl herself sang, I found myself thinking how dated this 1984 song sounds in these recessionary times.

Because (and maybe it's just the sorts of folks I associate with) but we've kind of moved beyond this sort of mentality, whether it has been by choice or by circumstance.

Or ... have we?

I kind of have to ask because after a day that included sorting food donations given to the organization I work for, I came home and -

Wait. I gotta interrupt and say something about the food donation situation. Just in case you happen to have a hankering to donate food to some worthy organization this holiday season, here's a little bit of a tip to keep in mind. It's generally appreciated by the organization - and the person receiving it - that the food donation not be something you bought to stock up for the apocalypse that wasn't Y2K. Seriously, we had to throw out grody-to-the-max cans that expired when we were all still partyin' like it was 1999. One of the folks sorting with us told a story about how a few years back at another organization, they received a food donation that included World War II rations. Just 'cause someone is a little down on his or her luck doesn't mean that they'd like to meet their maker as a result of botulism.

OK, sorry. As I was saying. So I came home after sorting the food and was reading the newspaper, when I saw this story about this family that is planning to dip into their retirement savings to afford Christmas gifts for their kids.

Who happen to be all of 10, 17 ... and 20 years old.

My first thought was something along the lines of what the hell, you have got to be frickin' kidding me. There are still people who think this way?

Apparently so. From the article:

This year, the Carrcroft couple plans to spend about half the $250 they normally spend on each of their three children, ages 20, 17 and 10.
But even that will be a stretch, Kelly said.
"We're going to charge everything. I'm going to hit my retirement fund," she said. "We'll worry after. We'll cry after Christmas."

This article - and this mentality - has me infuriated on so many levels. For starters, with the exception of the 10 year old, these are grown children who should be well past the age of expecting Santa Baby to slide down the chimney with a gold-plated AmEx card. What kind of lesson is this family setting for their kids? That Mommy and Daddy will always be there for them? Well, in that respect, they will be ... because they'll be destitute in their retirement and needing the kids to take care of them. And furthermore, haven't we learned from this recession (one that has seen the work hours cut of the mother in the article) that things don't matter?

This family isn't alone. Far from it. I know someone personally who just had a baby last Friday - and by yesterday (yesterday ... that was Tuesday!) took the baby for her first shopping spree at Neiman Marcus.

We're never going to move past this recession if this is the mentality people have. But I have to believe - because I have seen it firsthand with the organization I work for - that more people have a more restrained view of the holidays and of gifts in general. They're looking for opportunities to make a difference, to give back. The good thing is, there are countless of organizations this holiday season where you can "adopt-a-family" and give them needed items like clothes or food, or make a donation instead of gifts. There are events such as "alternative gift markets" where you can "shop" for gifts like supporting a village library in Indonesia, or to teach a child from the next block how to read.

If there's one thing we've learned from this recession, it's that life is not about who dies with the most toys.

It's that the toys themselves are going to be the death of us.

(photo taken by me at a very, very expensive boutique during a work event to raise money)

Book Review (YA): An Egg on Three Sticks, by Jackie Moyer Fischer

An Egg on Three Sticks, by Jackie Moyer Fischer

Abby Goodman knows things, has seen things, that no teenager should ever know or see.

Things like her mother swimming naked in the neighbor's swimming pool in the middle of the night.

Or her mother's rages that cause her to destroy presents and people in her path, her suicidal tendencies, or her mother's zombie-like existence that causes her to sleep for days on end.

Mom is like this sheet walking around. Her skin is all white and her face is flat and she sort of floats from room to room.
I'm afraid to lift up the sheet.
Afraid there's nothing under there.
There's something else walking around our house, too.

The thing nobody talks about.
Which is that we are all afraid that Mom is going to try it again.
I think about it all the time.
I come home from school every day and I don't want to open the front door and walk inside.
Some days I make Poppy come home with me, just in case.
So far, Mom has only been lying down.
On her bed.

Alive.

Abby and her family (including her father and younger sister Lisa) are the victims of her mother's mental illness, in a time when being bipolar and clinically depressed were treated through denial and whispers among neighbors. Eventually, Abby's mother winds up in a psychiatric hospital for a lengthy stay. (An Egg on Three Sticks' setting of the 1970s is clear here; in 2009, such a long stay would never be covered by insurance. It's also telling in terms of the evolution over the past three decades of the pharmacology used to treat mental illness.)

An Egg on Three Sticks deals with much of the same subject matter as Tomato Girl, and with similar writing. Those who liked the latter would probably enjoy reading An Egg on Three Sticks, as I did.

Author Jackie Moyer Fischer captures this era of Vietnam and shag carpeting as a backdrop against Abby's experience of needing to grow up too quickly. In many ways, Abby's very much of the 7th grade narrator at the book's beginning, a tween that frequently peppers her vocabulary with phrases like "weirdamundo," the verbiage found in the coolamundo language she and her best friend Poppy bond over.

By the book's end, Abby is 15 and feeling like she is 40. And the reader closes the book wondering about the effect her childhood will have on her life once Abby does reach her 40s. Does she inherit characteristics of her mother's mental illness? Is she still close with her sister Lisa? What happens to her father, their neighbor's son who is "getting shot - I mean, shot at" over in Vietnam?

Those are the qualities of a good novel, one where the characters capture your heart as you read and after you're finished reading, keep it there for awhile longer.

I couldn't find any other reviews of this, but if I missed yours, let me know in the comments.

The Sunday Salon: In Which My Quest to Read 50 Books Continues for Another Week ....

Maybe it is because I have never, as an adult, read 50 books in one year, but isn't there something oh-so-cool about being able to say "I read 50 books this year"?

I happen to think so. And I thought this would be the week when my reading tallies would equal that magical number, but that was not to be. It remains elusive and out of reach for one week longer (or more).

This was kind of a mixed bag in terms of reading weeks. On the positive end of the spectrum, I finished The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, which I found myself enjoying and thinking about much more than I ever thought I would.

Then it was onto John Green's Paper Towns, another one that has received raves among book bloggers. Sad to say, I couldn't finish this one. I know, something must be wrong with me for not being able to get into this but I just felt I was reading Looking for Alaska again. Seriously, could Margo and Alaska be any more similar? I like John Green's style a lot - the man is a very talented writer - and much of the first part of this book had me LOLing - but I abandoned this at page 73.

John Green isn't alone, because I also abandoned Jeffrey Zaslow's The Girls from Ames: The Story of Women and a 40-Year Friendship. Again, I really wanted to like this book but it fell flat for me. I thought it was because I was listening to this on audio (and the narrator's tone was sort of ... I don't know the word ... maybe patronizing? haughty?) but then I read some of it and it still wasn't working for me. It's the story of 11 girls from Ames, Iowa who became friends in the late 60s and the strong bond that they still have today.

Listening to this is like being at a party where everyone is regaling each other by reminiscing of days gone by - and you're the odd chick out because you're not getting their jokes because you aren't part of their memories. As much as they try to explain, the nostalgia falls flat for that very reason. Similarly, there are life-changing incidents that happen to the girls - a date rape, the death of one of the girls, one of the girls being shot by a stray BB gun - that are somewhat glossed over, and those were the scenarios that were more of interest to me, as opposed to narratives about the girls' summer jobs scooping ice cream. (Not like there's anything wrong with that. I am a big fan of ice cream. :)

It was, however, a much better week for "Sesame Street," which turned 40. (It is pretty depressing to realize that I am older than "Sesame Street," albeit only by a few months. I've had the nonfiction book Street Gang: The Complete History of Sesame Street. So far, I'm enjoying this, although I'm only up to page 56. Thus far, we have had a bit longer discussion of Captain Kangaroo than I would prefer (I never got into that show), but since they are all intertwined, its forgiveable ... for now.

So, don't forget to come back next week, boys and girls, when perhaps our friends from "Sesame Street" will help us count all the way to 50.