Book Club Books (by Barbara)

I guess I can write on this blog, since I’m Retired in Austin, too.

Almost two years ago, I was invited to join a book club with some ladies from church. I decided it might be interesting, since I like to read (at last count, I have read 121 books this calendar year). Of course, what I usually read comes in two categories. The first are mysteries. The others are religion/theology books – either that I’m supposed to read for school, or that are about topics that catch my interest – such as the 6 I’ve read on the women's question since we discussed 1 Timothy 2 in Bible class (and the 3 others I have waiting.)

I suspected the book club would introduce me to more literature type/less popular fiction books and things that I wouldn’t ordinarily pick and boy has it.

I’ve read non-fiction stories about real people, such as Glass Castle, a memoir by a woman who grew up in a very strange family, but she and her two siblings have turned out to be regular people; Kabloona, the story of a man who in the 1940s spent 15 months living with the Inuits (Eskimos) above the Arctic Circle; and Same Kind of Different as Me, the story of an art dealer, his wife and a poor black man they met in a soup kitchen in Dallas and formed a relationship with.

I learned a lot about history through non-fiction books such as Devil in the White City (Chicago World Fair of 1893); and Isaac’s Storm (1900 Galveston hurricane – although I quit that one in the middle). I learned a lot more than I’d known before about autism - in the Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, (fiction, but written as a memoir) although I didn’t find it an enjoyable read.

I enjoyed Moolokai, the story of a leper colony in Hawaii in the early 1900s, so much that I read another by the same author which was the story of Korean mail order brides, who came to Hawaii in the 1920s.

Two books I enjoyed and recommended to Dad and that he liked were Water for Elephants, a story about running away and working in a circus, and the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. We meet in different people’s homes and the hostess for the discussion of the Guernsey Literary Society was a woman who lives in England six months of the year and is in a book club there. Hearing her tell some of the stories her English friends, some of whom were adults during the war years, tell made that discussion really interesting.

I’ve enjoyed some of the books and not enjoyed others. Some I thought the writing was good, but the story I didn’t care for. Atonement was one of those. (I didn’t like the movie, either.) I thought the story in Same Kind of Different as Me was somewhat touching and inspiring, but was poorly written.

I haven’t decided where I’m going to come down on World Without End, by Ken Follett, which is the summer selection for our August meeting. That’s if I finish it. - it’s over 900 pages long, and I’ve been reading 3 or 4 evenings and am less than 300 pages into it. If I don’t finish it before vacation next week, I probably won’t return to it.

If you’ve not fallen asleep from boredom, and if you’ve read any of the above, let me know what you think. One of our members said at one meeting, “It was hard to discuss this book, because everybody likes it. You need some disagreement for good discussion.” Maybe I like that statement because she and/or I are usually the one(s) who disagree.

A recent coversation while seated at Fran's

HER: They sent out an email. I wonder if they have enough.

Me: Murlene, what are you talking about? From an old TV show; spoken in a derisive tone.

HER: I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to myself.

Me: And how am I supposed to know that? It sounded like you were talking to me.

HER: If I want to say something to you I'll say, "Bob. I'm talking to you."

Me: You never do that, though.

HER: Then I guess I don't talk to you anymore.

Monday Meanderings - July 27

I got the special tool for adjusting the sprinkler, so I'm no longer watering the back patio. However, I'm only back to where I was. Even looking at the Internet video I still can't figure out how to adjust the spray on the right side. It looks so easy in the video, but thus far I'm flummoxed.

The big adventure for the weekend was a trip to Costco; same sort of deal as Sam's. We sure did spend a lot of money saving a few dollars! However, the carts are better at Costco than at Sam's, so that cinched the deal.

FWIW, here's my official cart score card:

1. Central market - by far the best carts in town. Never a shimmy or thump-thump. They also have mini-carts. Four casters out of four.
   
2. Costco. Okay, I only have experience with one cart, but it was a good one. Three tentative casters.
3. Randall's. Smooth floors and smooth wheels. Too bad we don't shop there. Three casters.
   
4. Sam's. An okay cart, but we've marked it off the list.
5. Walmart carts are horrible. I have taken back as many as 3 carts in a single trip trying to get one that doesn't go thump-thump, and I have abandoned more than 1 cart mid store! The greeter hates to see me coming. Negative casters.

You got to love free food. We had a "two can eat for $13.95" coupon from Black-Eyed Pea - good after 4pm - so we wandered over there the other evening. Much to our surprise, our BEP has become a BEP Express and completely revamped their deal. You now order at a counter, pay and get a number, go to the self-service drink section and then find a table. Same food - different ordering process. However the guy at the order counter couldn't figure out how to deal with our coupon, so he went and got the manager. Mom taught the manager's kids, so he just rang up our order and comped the whole deal. Sweet. Jury is still out on the order thingy, though. I can just see the Sunday crowd of older church folks (you know - like us) when they hit the new deal.

About 60 from Westover have gone to Peru to hold a VBS at the Community outside Lima. Mom and I chose not to go. Okay, the truth is, our friend the director wouldn't let us go had we wanted. Her experience with VBS trips is that it takes more flexibility than we possess (she knows us well). She's right. Their plane spent 7 hours on the tarmac in Houston (without air conditioning), for one reason or another, before departing on a 6-7 hour flight to Peru! I would have gnawed a hole in the side of the plane to get out. Mid-air, if necessary. More likely, others would have gnawed holes and shoved us out!

This weeks videos: For a really impressive look at an extraordinary event in the natural kingdom, go over to Mike Cope's blog here.

And just in case you're fresh from a week in the Antarctic and haven't yet seen this on Facebook, CNN, YouTube or the evening news... go to Rob's blog And no, I must say of the hundreds of weddings I've done, none were this much fun.

Oh, what a green thumb he has!

I previously mentioned the lovely orchid that sits in the corner of the living room. It's blooms were gorgeous for weeks, but eventually fell away, as expected. The information says that one should now patiently watch for signs of a new branch.

So I patiently watched. And watched. And watched. And then one day, lo and behold, I detected new growth! There is a smallish branch growing on the stem - new orchid blooms on the way!

Take a look:

So, do you see any problem with this smallish branch?

That's right. It's on the bamboo support stick - not the orchid stem.

Hey! New growth is new growth. If I can get a stick to grow, surely I can get blooms on an orchid.

Elsewhere, USA

I have blogged about the fact that most books we read for the blind are text books. Dull. complicated. tedious. text books. Most often, it is something like the 18th edition of a college sociology text; the first 90 pages are spent pointing out all of the new and exciting things that set the 18th edition apart from the 17th edition, and the next 20 how this particular book is now the best sociology text in the world. Not to mention 10 pages of glowing biographical garbage about the authors. [insert picture here of someone pretending to gag. Okay, just imagine it - that's gross enough]

But occasionally you get a book you really enjoy reading. Like the one this week, Elsewhere, USA. Written by Dalton Conley, Chair of the Department of Sociology at New York University, the cover blurb for this book reads: "Elsewhere, U.S.A.: How We Got from the Company Man, Family Dinners, and the Affluent Society to the Home Office, BlackBerry Moms, and Economic Anxiety."

Now this is not a book review - I only read aloud most of two chapters of the book during my session. I did - for the very first time of all the books I've read from - put my name in it as a purchaser when the book has been read (and checked, and finalized, and sent to New Jersey, etc. before the hard copy is released). In other words, don't hold your breath for my review.

But in my two chapters, I learned the answer to a question I have often asked, "Who was the first person to think it would be a good idea to print an advertisement on a T-shirt?" And the answer will surprise you. Thomas Dewey, candidate for President in 1948. You know, the one that defeated Truman, according to the Chicago Daily Tribune. Okay, probably not Thomas himself, but someone in his campaign came up with T-shirts printed with "Dew it for Dewey" and handed them out to workers and supporters.

But to get to this answer - and beyond - Conley reviews the history of the T-shirt, beginning with the US Navy, who ordered a ton of "crew-neck" undershirts because the standard seaman's v-necked uniform showed too much skin back in the more refined era of the early 1900's. It wasn't long before sailors realized the tee itself was the appropriate uniform for the South seas. Later, of course, all branches of the armed forces adopted the T-shirt as standard dress.

In 1936, the USC athletics department asked Jockey, Intl. to make an under shirt to prevent chafing of the athletic gear and they foolishlessly stamped them "Property of USC Athletics." They recovered quickly and soon were selling the shirts in the campus store - the first "branded" T-shirts. Dewey's supporters wore the first advertising shirts and Walt Disney and then the Budweiser company knew a good thing when they saw it and the rest, as they say...

How cool is a book that answers questions like that?

Monday Meanderings

We've been watching the Tour de France. Okay, I admit it - we didn't watch at all the past few years when Lance was not in it. But Lance is riding again, plus this year it's in high-def and the scenery has been gorgeous.

But I have a couple of questions. How many water bottles does it take to supply the 170+ riders throughout the entire 3-week tour? You watch the riders and they launch empty bottles into the countryside like mortar shells. And does someone come along and pick up the bottles that don't get snagged as souvenirs? I mean we are talking about some serious littering here! IMWTK

Actually, I just Googled the number of water bottles question and the answer seems to be 42,000! Now that really makes my second question pertinent.

I've mentioned a few times how helpful the Internet is for home repairs. I just wish I had checked the Internet before I tried to adjust a sprinkler head in the back yard. Then I would have known about the special little tool I needed and my misguided attempt wouldn't have resulted in that sprinkler now watering only the back patio.

Saw a bumper sticker that said "I child-proofed my home. But they got in anyway."

My boss is dead in my attic

A friend commented about having a company come out and add insulation and a vapor barrier to his attic last week. Since the temperature was in triple digits all that time I marveled that anyone could go into an attic and survive. Which reminded me of the day I thought my boss died in my attic.

This was back during the great remodeling - I had decided that the time was right to add another phone line and phone jacks in areas not previously wired. My boss, experienced in these matters, volunteered to come by on a Saturday morning and pull this new cable and make the drops. It was early Fall and still hot in Texas, but the plan was to get on it before it got unbearable. That was the plan, but John had other things to take care off and it was nearly noon before he showed up. Nevertheless, he was game and gathered his tools and cable and climbed up into the attic.

The area that needed the wiring was, of course, in the back part of the house, so John had to enter in the garage area, then make his way all across the front of the house to the far end - beyond the front hallway, then turn left and make his way in the crawl space to the back bedroom area. I made that trip once or twice in my younger days, and it's a very tight, very cramped journey.

My role was to stand on the steps leading up to the attic and feed the extension cord and the phone cables into the space as John pulled them along. All went well as he got to the far end and turned the corner out of sight, and then for a bit longer. Then there was no more pull on the cables. John was stopped - short of his goal. I called out, but got no response. I yelled out! And got no response. I screamed bloody murder loud! And still got no response. No movement. No response. No John.

I am thinking, "My boss has just collapsed and died from the heat in my attic! How are we going to get him out? EMS is going to have to chop a hole in the roof to get his body out of my attic! How am I going to explain this to the rest of the company on Monday morning?"

I ran into the house yelling for Barbara to call 911 - John was dead in the attic! She said, "I can hear him. He's not dead." Just to be certain, she walked to the back bedroom and called out to John, who answered her!

To make a long story short, I don't think I need additional insulation in my attic. At least there's enough to swallow up any sound traveling from one end to the other. John never heard any of my yelling - he could only hear us if we yelled up at the ceiling a few feet away. He finished his task, crawled out, and went home - no worse for his experience.

But I'm pretty certain if it is 105 degrees, like it has been here all last week, one should not go into an attic. At least not my attic.

Not stand on that...

Ya'll. I can tell you right now that if I ever had an opportunity to visit this place I would so not do it. This is a new feature on the 103 floor of the Sears Tower in Chicago. Count me out.

Monday Meanderings

I'm sure we had a big 4th of July celebration. Hmm. Can't exactly remember what, but I'm sure we did something.

People at church were talking about having to pen up their dogs on the 4th because fireworks cause them to go berserk. One person told about having some left over Roman Candles and when when some friends were at the house for New Years, he thoght he would light them. He no sooner had one stuck in the ground and lit when his dog - thinking this was a stick and they were going to play fetch - grabbed the Roman Candle out of the ground and started running around the yard. Pretty soon fireworks were shooting every where, everybody was diving for cover and the dog was doing figure-eights in the back yard, fleeing from whatever was chasing him and the stick! Nothing got burned down, but the dog wouldn't ever play fetch again.

In at least some of the restrooms at church (I haven't been in all of them) they have installed fancy new soap dispensers. Put your hand under the spigot and it will automatically foop! some foamy soap on them. But at first, it would only fpp! a little and then it wouldn't work again for a while. There must be a sensitivity adjustment because today if your hands were anywhere in the wash basin it would FOOOP! And then FOOOP! again when you moved just a little. Pretty soon I've got foamy soap on my hands, on my shirt sleeve and all in the basin and I can't put my hands under the water to wash it off without it going FOOOP! again. I think some desensitization is in order here.

There may be a reason why Mom and I don't go to many movies. We got a coupon for a Time Warner Movie-On-Demand for 99 cents. Okay, here's the M-O-D channel and here's at least 100 movies to choose from. Hmm. Any body want a 99 cent movie coupon?

Slim Meanderings this week. Too much celebrating on the 4th.

A story for my grandchildren...

It comes up in conversation now and then - the story about me and the box. I think I've told my children the story, but if not I need to. It should be repeated in family gatherings in years to come to help my children's children understand that their parents come by certain things quite honestly. And perhaps it will help shed some light on their own behavior.

I had a paper route when I was a teenager. Back then, the Breckenridge American was published every week-day afternoon and the week-end edition was delivered on Sunday morning. This edition was actually printed Saturday afternoon and we went down to the newspaper office and rolled our papers and put them in our canvas bags and left them there to be picked up and scattered in yards across town early the next morning. They used to let us take them home overnight until some over-zealous carriers started tossing them on the way home Saturday so they could sleep in on Sunday.

Except for the dead of winter, I enjoyed the Sunday morning route. You got to avoid the traffic and the heat, and in the summertime you sometimes got to see who slept out of doors to avoid the hot un-air-conditioned houses.

And one Sunday morning I found a box. I don't remember where, but I remember it was HUGE! The possibilities of a huge cardboard box are endless; few prizes held more excitement to a young boy! When I say huge, I mean it was bigger than my bicycle! All I had to do was get it home! Being an enterprising sort of person, I figured out that I could get on my bike, turn the box upside down over me and, balancing the box, slowly pedal me and my prize home.

Okay, I know that right now you are thinking about some of the pictures in "Why women live longer than men." Yes. It does start at an early age. But there's more. I could move the bike and box, but I couldn't see where I was going. You think? But I discovered that if I pedaled down the stripe in the middle of the road I knew I was headed in the right direction! And yes, it was Walker Street - the main road through town - but it was six AM in the morning. No cars drove down Walker at 6AM, so off I went.

And I was right. There were no cars driving down the street. But there was one parked in the middle of the street. Officer Cozart had stopped his police car about a half-block further down and waited for me to arrive. I knew he was there when I ran into his bumper.

It was a small collision - I wasn't going very fast. And I was really mystified why some fool had parked his car in the middle of the road, so I raised the box to find Officer Cozart looking very stern, shaking his head.

To be honest, I don't remember our conversation. I am pretty sure it consisted of a bunch of "Yes, Sirs" on my part. And I don't remember how - or if - I got the box home. I probably did. I probably moved my operation to the sidewalk. And I probably put the box over my head and walked home.

So, Jericho, Jacob, Luke and Grace. This is your heritage. Enjoy your childhood.

A gift...

This mug was a birthday gift from my bride. A lovely, hand-thrown coffee mug, colorfully glazed and comfortable to hold (in spite of its heft).

But what sets this mug apart was that it was made by our friend and shepherd, Don Brimberry. Some of you know Don, or perhaps his wife, Terra. I recall that Terra visited Julie and Jason when they lived in Prague; she grew up on the mission field in Korea and has a heart for missions.

Don is one of those rare individuals that makes a living with his art. Austin is full of artists, but most have not given up the day job. Don creates his wonderful pottery throughout the week and spends most weekends selling his work at various Arts and Craft shows. Yet he almost never misses teaching class on Sunday mornings. And from time-to-time he sets up his portable wheel and teaches an incredible lesson/demonstration to youth groups. Don is a potter, and a shepherd. There's a biblical combination for you.

I encourage you to visit Don's web site and look at his gorgeous work. Maybe you'll have a birthday soon.