In the last year, I’ve read the following:

• The Story of Arthur Truluv, by Elizabeth Berg. Wonderful: simple but not simplistic, and easy, but with depth.
• Know My Name, by Chanel Miller. An incredible story about a difficult topic. Somehow she managed to tell her story in such a way that I didn’t suffer any second degree trauma. I learned so much that, hoping to get my husband to read it, I ordered the book. (And then he wouldn’t read it — says stories like this are just too deeply disturbing.)
• The Art of Natural Cheesemaking, by David Asher. An excellent book — highly recommend (but note: my kefir-cultured cheeses were a disaster!). I wrote more about it here.
• No Cure For Being Human: (And Other Truths I Need To Hear), by Kate Bowler. I read this one in a single sitting (and it made me tear up).
• Permanent Record, by Edward Snowden. Interesting, but the tech parts were baffling (so I skimmed about a third of the book).
• Stranger Care: A Memoir of Loving What Isn’t Ours, by Sarah Sentilles. Well-written (I love love love her writing style) and utterly devastating. As a former foster parent, I wasn’t surprised by her story, just (re)angered.
• Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of Life Interrupted, by Suleika Jaouad. A wonderful story that made me feel a little bit incredulous that I somehow have a healthy body.
• The Mindful Grandparent: The Art of Loving Our Children’s Children, by Marilyn McEntyre and Shirley Showalter. I got to see the creation of this book, participate (a little) in its formation, and celebrate its birth! I wrote more about it here.
• But You Seemed So Happy: A Marriage, in Pieces and Bits, by Kimberly Harrington. I had trouble connecting with the author and never really relaxed into the story.
• The Buddha in the Attic, by Julie Otsuka. A fast read. Well-written and creative. Poetic.
• Here We Are, by Aarti Namdev Shahani. About our broken justice system and an immigrant family, this is an important topic but the story felt disjointed and too long and I didn’t quite make it the whole way through.
• Tasha: A Son’s Memoir, by Brian Morton. Well-done and interesting.
• Migrations, by Charlotte McConaghy. A fun book, well-written and pleasant, but it took me a while to finish.
• Sex Is A Funny Word: A Book About Bodies, Feelings, and YOU, by Cory Silverberg. Balanced, open, upbeat, frank, age (6-12-ish) appropriate. I wrote more about it here.
• Mastering Artisan Cheesemaking: The Ultimate Book for Home-Scale and Market Producers, by Gianaclis Caldwell. Packed with scientific information, cheesemaking insights, and recipe ideas! I wish I bought this book a year ago.
• And Yet, by Kate Baer. I read this sweet little book of poetry in a single day, two sittings. Kate did it again!
• Teaching While Black, by Matthew E. Henry. Packed with imagery, this raw, dense book of poems is an insightful read about racial issues in our school systems.
• Before and After the Book Deal: A Writer’s Guide to Finishing, Publishing, Promoting, and Surviving Your First Book, by Courtney Maum. Warm and honest, and loaded with facts and details, this one is a real insider look at the ups and downs of publishing a book. (And then I arranged a phone consultation with her!) Highly recommend.
• The Measure, by Nikki Erlick. An interesting concept but the story felt a little too didactic. The plot seemed distant and then I realized: with an established predestination for all the characters, there’s not much thrill.
• Giving Up the Ghost, by Hilary Mantel. So dense that I found it hard to follow and ended up whip-skimming whole swaths.

Top picks include Stranger Care and Know My Name (for most absorbing and inspiring), as well as Mastering Artisan Cheesemaking and Courtney Maum’s book (both for their usefulness). I struggle to enjoy fiction — my mom says it’s because the stories aren’t real; she might be right — but I keep trying. Just now I placed several books from this list on hold at the library. What are you reading?

This same time, years previous: cheesetasting: round three, perimenopause: some goodies, 2020 book list, 2019 book list, the quotidian (12.31.18), 2017 book list, remembering Guatemala.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

All the pretty things.

Conquering mozzarella (for the third time).

He did his job (we think) so we sent him home.

Oh, the weather outside!

Delightful.

Christmas Eve.

O holly bush, O holly bush.

The elves came.

Christmas calzones: eaten standing up around the island (because we’re fancy like that).

Calzone delivery and an ER tour. (He wasn’t lying! He’s actually a nurse!)

Shady selfie.

Darkness and light.

This same time, years previous: wedding weekend: the celebration, a Christmas spectacle, right now, balsamic-glazed roasted butternut squash and brussel sprouts, 2016 garden stats and notes, cheese ball, hot buttered rolls, dancing mice and other Christmas tales.

I’m the first one up this morning. It’s three degrees outside, though it sounds better in celsius: -16. My husband got up during the night to put more wood on the fire so the house isn’t too cold. I love cold weather. The hunkered down feeling is so satisfying. 

We didn’t do our normal Christmas tree this year. I’m a little weary of spending so much money just to cut down a live tree — it almost feels sad. So instead I picked up a holly bush at a local nursery. It’s the size of a small tree and it’s kinda shaped like one, though the branches poke out at weird angles in places. We strung it with white lights. I was thinking strands of popcorn would be nice, and my daughter wanted to add slices of dried citrus, but then we didn’t get any further. My son was in an uproar that we didn’t cut a real tree, but then he pronounced it good so I guess it’s okay.

Our traditions are changing. We spent the first few years establishing them, and then the next few years maintaining them, and now we’re shifting. Paring down. Reevaluating. Since the kids are older, they can take on some of the responsibility. Example: I don’t feel like making iced butter cookies and they’re bummed about that so I say, Why don’t you make them? And then when they don’t, it tells me they don’t actually care about the butter cookies enough to go to the trouble of making them so why should I? (Of course, that’s not completely true — they do have an emotional attachment to the butter cookies. But that doesn’t mean they’re necessary.)

Part of me misses carrying the full weight of making the Christmas magic, but another part of me is quite happy to let go. I know if I kept pushing myself at this stage in the parenting game, I’d probably end up resenting everyone. So tonight we’ll go to church for the Christmas eve service and I’ll wear the extremely warm dress I wore for last year’s winter wedding, and then we’ll come home and have our cheese feast. I scaled back on the cheese part of it since I’m (temporarily) a little cheese fatigued. But yesterday I realized that one of my Bries is ready to eat, and then my daughter-in-law agreed to bring her killer sticky rice squares with shrimp and seaweed and I made meatballs and a double batch of eggnog and my mom is bringing cut veggies, so I guess it’s not really scaled back after all.

We still don’t know what we’re having for Christmas dinner, though. My younger son wants a ham. My husband says hamburgers. I’d like something basic yet fancyish like a caramelized onion galette and a salad. What are you having?

Merry Christmas to all. xo

***

photos from last week’s ice storm

This same time, years previous: wedding weekend: the officiation, chocolate bourbon pie, or something like that, 2018 book list, ludicrous mashed potatoes, sex for all creation, 2015 book list, 2014 book list, fa-la-la-la-la, toasty oatmeal muffins.