"She ran with the heart of a locomotive, on champagne-glass ankles..."*

Fact #582,341 you probably never would have guessed about me:

I like horse racing. I know a fair bit about it. I can rattle off Derby winners and jockey names and racing terminology – at least enough to converse semi-intelligently with my diehard racing-fan father-in-law and enough to pick decent horses to bet on (not that I ever really win, but I often have good reasons for placing a bet beyond, “Ooooh, pretty.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that rationale, either...) The horses are full of vigor and heart, and there are few things more beautiful than a horse in motion.

I was at a party yesterday afternoon when the Derby went off. We turned on the TV to watch the race. The favorite, Big Brown, won, coming in almost five full lengths ahead of the next horse – who happened to be number five, the grey filly Eight Belles, the horse I was pulling for. Eight Belles pulled out of the pack towards the end, finishing second. Man, what a gorgeous, gorgeous horse.

Just before we turned off the TV, someone said, “Is that a horse down?” but it wasn’t till this morning that I read that, right after her incredible race, Eight Belles was euthanized on the track. She’d apparently fractured both front ankles and, as is generally SOP with thoroughbred racehorses, was euthanized because with no way to put any weight on either leg, the chances for recovery are slim.

Washington Post sportswriter Sally Jenkins asserts that thoroughbred horses have become too strong with bones too lightweight..."Part of the trouble is the makeup of thoroughbreds themselves: They are creatures physically at war with their own nature. The heart and lungs are oversize knots of tissue placed in a massive chest, and huge amounts of blood course through legs that are dainty. Anyone who has spent time around a barn understands that horses love to run.”

However, Jenkins goes on to say, "...thoroughbred racing is in a moral crisis, and everyone now knows it...Horses are being over-bred and over-raced, until their bodies cannot support their own ambitions, or those of the humans who race them."

In recent years (spurred particularly by Derby winner Barbaro’s injury in the 2006 Preakness, and subsequent death), there’s been quite a bit of this sort of talk.

I agree with Jessica when she says, “After yesterday, I'd say there's going to be a lot more ammunition for that fight.” As well there should be.

Eight Belles
2005-2008



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*Sally Jenkins, in "Is Horse Racing Breeding Itself to Death?"

"On and on and on, we'll be together, yeah..."*

I just started Michael Lee West’s Crazy Ladies and Bonny Wolf’s Talking with My Mouth Full. I had to read something while I stood in the kitchen stirring molasses and brown sugar and butter for Nigella’s gingerbread with lemon icing, for a picnic we are going to tomorrow. In the morning I will throw together a pan of Katherine Hepburn’s brownies (best brownies EVER) for the kids, or any adults who don’t like gingerbread. I am still reading Tenderness of Wolves, and it IS getting better, but I am so disappointed – I really expected to love it and just sail through it. Now I must hie me to Amazon to buy Not a Box for Seg. It is a huge hit around here, and one I think we need to own. Then I need to figure out how to set my running watch to count down and repeat thirty one-minute intervals. I have such an exciting life, hmmmm? Have a good weekend, guys, and GO PENS!

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"On and On and On," from Sky Blue Sky, Wilco (this is my new favorite Wilco tune, and a song that makes me just a leetle bit in love with Jeff Tweedy)

"Fiction's about what it is to be a human being."*

I've been reading me some books:

I Am Legend – Richard Matheson. I imagine this would make a terrific movie but not having seen any of the versions, I don’t know. The book was OK. The ending shocked me. I did not feel compelled to read any of the short stories included in the volume the library chose to send to me.

Certain Girls - Jennifer Weiner. A decent read, an easy read (I whipped through it in two days). The alternating chapters, between Cannie and her daughter Joy, grew increasingly distracting. I did not LOVE it but I certainly liked it well enough and am happy to give Jennifer Weiner, who seems like a very nice woman, my money.

Mermaids in the Basement - Michael Lee West. I can’t recall if I already talked about this book but I liked it well enough that on a sojourn to Half Price Books last week I scooped up three more by West. Her characters are weird and quirky and funny, her families are all nuts, and the food is reliably delectable. (Note that the book that turned me on to West is her cookbook, Consuming Passions, both a fabulous read and a fabulous cookbook.)

Stuffed: Adventures of a Restaurant Family - Patricia Volk. Eh. I expected more food, less exposition. Her family is weird, too, but not nearly as lovably weird as West’s.

Monsters of Templeton - Lauren Groff. Groff is going to be a formidable force in the fiction world in the coming decades. As with David Mitchell, Allegra Goodman, and Kate Atkinson, I think Groff is going to develop into a stellar novelist and look forward to the journey with her. She’s already nothing to sneeze at; her debut is intelligent and fun (I don't know, think Possession (but not quite so academic or focused)...maybe crossed with Goodman’s family characterizations and a smidgen of weird creature-feature stuff. There's a whiff - like you'd wave the vermouth bottle over your martini? - of Richard Russo, and some Gothicky, Rebecca-like stuff, too.)

An Uncommon Reader - Alan Bennett. What a totally charming little book.

And here’s something exciting: David Sedaris has a new book coming out.

In other news, I seem totally unable to finish Tenderness of Wolves, we are having waffles and sausage for dinner which is a sure thing, and I just mixed up a batch of brownies from a mix that was languishing in my pantry because the Nigella recipe I planned to use called for A CUP AND TWO-THIRDS of butter - and I didn't have enough.

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*David Foster Wallace (aka Gina's Boyfriend)

“There is no spectacle on earth more appealing than that of a beautiful woman in the act of cooking dinner for someone she loves.”*

For dinner tonight I made this chicken, and these yam cakes, and oven fries, and steamed whole green beans, and chopped organic Braeburn apple.

Primo ate: an apple, a glass of milk, a piece of potato and a bite or two of chicken (both dredged through ketchup) before declaring it "OK."

Seg ate: half an apple, a bite or two of chicken, and a glass of milk.

Terzo ate: four pieces of potato and a glass of ice water.

H ate a helping of green beans, some yam cakes, and a couple pieces of potato.
He was "not in the mood for chicken," which I, having been married to the man for thirteen years (but perhaps being a tad oversensitive?), translated as "I don't like drumsticks." (From the man who won't eat scallops (yucky texture), crab, lobster, or shrimp ("bottom-feeders"), pork, most red meat except for the occasional hamburger or $25 piece of steak), or flounder ("trash fish").)

I ate it all; in fact, I ate too much, and it was DELICIOUS.


Maybe my looks are the problem...

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* Thomas Wolfe

"Shine your shoes, we're going dancing with Lord Stanley!"

Playoff tickets: $200
Pretzel and Coke: $12
Watching your team come back from a 3-0 deficit, scoring two goals 15 seconds apart TWICE, and beating the horrible hated Rangers in one of the most exciting playoff games EVER: Priceless

There are some things money can't buy. Like Pens hockey.

"Well, we kinda face to the north and real subtle-like turn left."*

The Grand Sophy – Georgette Heyer
Cocktails for Three – Madeline Wickham
Geyser Life – Edward Hardy

And now you know.
And so do I.
(And thanks to Jess for the inside scoop on canceled hold records.)

Now go read Lauren Groff’s Monsters of Templeton.
It’s (so far) the best modern novel I have read in a very long time.

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*Daniel Day-Lewis as Hawkeye in "Last of the Mohicans"

“To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first, and call whatever you hit the target” *

It was bound to happen eventually – I didn’t get to the library this weekend to pick up my holds and they were sent back – and I cannot remember what I requested. Oh well, it’s not as if I don’t have plenty to read – but more on that later.

I managed to get all the trim but the window painted in the bedroom that is going to be H’s. This morning Terzo, Quarto (affectionately known as Darth at the moment), and I went to the NEW Target (oooohhh…) to buy:

1) unbreakable cereal bowls. One of the handcrafted pottery bowls that H and I collect was accidentally chipped at my impromptu birthday festivities Friday evening – our own fault for using them, but we had ice cream to feed people, so there you have it...it’s time for some Melamine for this household. I spotted some lovely ombre blue and white bowls at the old Target on Thursday but there were only two then, so today at the NEW Target when there were eight upon the shelf, I scooped them up, and eight matching salad plates and the six remaining dinner plates. I am becoming the queen of mismatched dinnerware –but it’s all in lovely shades of blue and white and turquoise so it’s all good and pretty and interesting.

2) window blinds for my boys’ room and H’s new bedroom. Because our house is so old, our windows are ginormous. But I found two of those new honeycomb cordless blinds in “Cottage White” for the boys, and a looooong off-white jute Roman shade for H, which will be covered with some plain unbleached muslin curtains. As soon as I finish painting the window frames, I will install these, and shift H’s closet contents, and set up his futon. And maybe my two older boys will stop waking up all night long, because the street lights outside the window will be blocked…

3) Snoopy socks for Terzo (gotta love those $1 bins), and
4) some coconut SoftSoap body scrub for me (in place of my lovely but now unfindable milk and honey bodywash), and
5) some nice hooks for the back of my bedroom door, for my bathrobe (not that I ever wore a bathrobe in my life before, but now I wear a light-blue cotton robe from Saks that I found at a thrift shop and LOVE it. It gives the Neutrogena body oil time to dry.)

And then, as I was handing the cashier my $5 off coupon that my neighbor had given me, I smelled the lovely toasty scent of coffee. There is a Starbucks RIGHT IN THE NEW TARGET.
Heaven.
Absolute heaven.
Could a shopping trip get any better?
Retail therapy is SO effective sometimes.

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*Ashleigh Brilliant

"Don't talk to me about naval tradition. It's nothing but rum, sodomy, prayers, and the lash." *

I wonder how early is too early to start fantas -- er, thinking about one of these?

(And if I am taking photos of it, do I have a problem?)

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*Winston Churchill

"Oh boy, here we go. The pain of childbirth. Isn't there a statute of limitations on this?"*

I returned Devil in the White City (Erik Larsen) to the library – occurred to me that for the two bucks worth of fines I will pay, I could probably pick up a used copy somewhere, perhaps with the generous gift card to Half Price Books my wonderful (ex) compatriots from the library gave me as a baby gift. I was really enjoying it, however, and the best synopsis I can give (so far) is Katya’s: “I came for the serial killer and stayed for the architecture.”

Dreamers of the Day - Mary Doria Russell. It arrived a few days ago, and I was exhibiting a weird reluctance to start it, until last night. But then I got sucked into Scramble, and decided I need to finish The Tenderness of Wolves first.

Labyrinth – Kate Mosse. Someone tell me this ISN’T Da Vinci Code for chicks…I picked it up cheap at the library sale, and would maybe like to read it someday….but…same goes for the copy of The Reluctant Fundamentalist I got for a buck yesterday. I’ll get to them all eventually, I suppose. It is to be hoped.

Accidental Tourist - Anne Tyler. I always like Tyler novels but I always forget that until I pick one up. This one is slightly dated, and the tragic catalyst that begins the novel made me go check on my sleeping children, but it’s an enjoyable, quirky little read.

Deer Hunting with Jesus - Joe Bageant. Um, I SO don’t get it. Sorry. I didn’t much care for his writing, but I might give it another shot when I get my brain back.

Tenderness of Wolves - Stef Penney. So far this reminds me of Margaret Lawrence’s historical mysteries, in which the mystery is pretty much incidental to the history. I always dig the cranky yet efficient and competent women characters, too.

Wednesday Letters – Jason Wright. Argh! Make it STOP! My eyes are bleeding! (This is precisely what you would expect from a book written by a man named Jason.)

Remembering the Bones - Frances Itani. This book was interesting, and I mean that in a good way. Why it reminded me of Fannie Flagg’s Fried Green Tomatoes (with a soupcon of Robertson Davies’ Deptford trilogy), but narrated by an old lady lying half dead in a ravine, I do not know…

Keeper and Kid - Edward Hardy. I really, REALLY liked this book. It reminded me, especially in skill and verisimilitude of characterization, of a Richard Russo book, only the protagonist wasn’t nearly enough of a loser to be in a Russo novel. While the entire novel is based on a somewhat ridiculous assumption, the characters are realistic and still extremely likeable. And contrary to one Facebook reviewer’s assertions, I thought the three-year-old’s dialogue was perfect.

Away - Amy Bloom. Oh my fucking God, I read three pages and wanted to slit my wrists so I sent it back to the library. That said, the writing was terrific – unsurprising considering how adept and lovely the stories were in Bloom’s A Blind Man Can See How Much I Love You.

Remember Me? Sophie Kinsella’s latest offering. She trots out the unbelievable normal-slob/girl-next-door-makes-good storyline (which Gina pointed out, actually sort of made sense in the end of this book although I was skeptical even halfway through); however, Lexi is not NEARLY as neck-wringingly annoying as Becky Bloomwood.

The Ten Year Nap – Meg Wolitzer. I may go buy this one, even though I find Wolitzer’s books largely forgettable, although enjoyable and well-written enough while reading them.

The Monsters of Templeton - Lauren Groff. I’ll read this next, as there are a thousand and three holds on it (ok, a hundred-odd). And Jess just read it. I’ll keep you posted.

Naptime is the New Happy Hour. This book totally reminded me of the Suburban Bliss/Melissa Summers playdates-and-drinks debacle. And it is funny. And just when you think she’s being totally tongue-in-cheek and sarcastic, she comes out with some fundamental truth of parenting that causes you to heave an enormous sigh of relief and/or want to call her up for a playdate. All the bad-mommy clichés are present, but they’re still amusing, so…much is forgiven, if you manage to amuse me.

Other library books awaiting my eyeballs:
A Good School - Richard Yates.
Still Life Louise Penny. The first in a mystery series that looks interesting.
Stuffed: Adventures of a Restaurant Family - Patricia Volk.
Life Class - Pat Barker. Should I admit that I always mistake Pat Barker for the horror writer, Clive Barker? But apparently Pat is quite the writer.
The Master Bedroom - Tessa Hadley. Who the heck knows why I pick up half the books I do?
Mermaids in the Basement - Michael Lee West. West wrote one of my favorite “cookbooks” ever, Consuming Passions. In fact, I just had a piece of the most delicious chocolate cake ever, from a recipe in that book, that I made for H’s birthday.

Now that dissertation defense season is wrapping up, maybe I will have time to READ some of these.

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*Tim Taylor

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Dissertation Editing by BabelBabe
Rates available upon request.

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I am thinking of having business cards made.
And a website.
And this is my tagline.

Whaddya think?

"I would like to hold my little hand."*

It's been a very stressful - on many levels - week.

Today I recalled, inadvertently, one of the best stress reducers I have ever used: this album, CRANKED, while I lie on the floor with my eyes closed and lose myself in the music, especially tracks 2 ("Send Me on My Way"), 9 ("Martyr"), and most especially 10 ("Back to the Earth").

I was a Rusted Root fan when they were playing teeny little clubs like the Artery in Pittsburgh. I saw them at Graffiti more times than I can recall (dancing myself into a sweaty mess every single time), and spent four New Year's Eves in a row at one of their shows. I once drove to West Virginia to catch them at the Nyabinghi. And no one was happier for them than I, when they got a record contract and started touring with the likes of Blues Traveler and the Dave Matthew's Band.

It turns out that the boys dig them too - no surprise, with their strong rhythms and complex tunes. They are a drummer's dream.

A few tunes, and a nice stiff drink, and I am MUCH more relaxed.