The Art of Reading

Ken and I are both avid readers.  Ken claims to be more avid than me because he reads what I refer to as "learning books."  Which are just non-fiction.  Like reading non-fiction gets you more points or something.  I don't like non-fiction.  We discussed our reading styles during his weekend visit home.  (For you new followers... my husband is in...a minimal security prison.) 

I am currently reading a book by one of my favorite authors, David Sedaris.  It's called When You Are Engulfed In Flames.  And it's terribly funny.  I'm 85% done with it and am dreading finishing it.  For then I will have to find a new book.  This is my trouble area.  Ken says I struggle so much with it because I have never taken the time to figure out what kind of books I really like.  I always just read what people recommend.  Sometimes those recommendations are fabulous.  Excellent book recommendations that comes to mind are The Time Traveler's Wife, Life of Pi, and A Thousand Splendid Suns.  Sometimes recommendations are garbage.  What comes to mind are Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel and A Severe Mercy and Twilight, New Moon, and Eclipse.  I didn't waste my time with Breaking Dawn.  It took three books but I finally realized Stephanie Myers can't write worth a wooden nickel and my heart will  always belong to Ron Weasley. I admit I do read or at least start reading whatever books are thrown my way.  Nasty habit.  But I disagree with Ken's accusation that I don't know what kind of books I really like.  I read to be thoroughly entertained.  I occasionally need to take a break from darning socks and wash-boarding our laundry in the creek to relax.  The book doesn't have to be funny.  But it must entertain me.  I don't want to learn anything.  I just want to escape.  Be completely enveloped in a new story with deep characters.  Or laugh hysterically at short essays with shallow characters.

Ken thinks it's a shame that I don't like reading to learn.  But, uh, what was college for?  Plus, I don't want to be quizzed by people on what I am reading.  Take Ken. Ken is reading a book on the building of the Panama Canal.  It's called Between the Seas.  He's loving it.  When he tells people what he is reading there are always follow up questions.  And follow up questions are stressful for me.  You can't really have your own opinion on the Panama Canal, right?  It's just facts-so you either have to memorize a bunch of what you read or sound like someone who is trying to sound smart by reading learning books.  It's like when I tell someone I am from Pittsburgh.  And they ask if I like the Steelers.  And I say yes.  And they ask what I thought of that game.  And I didn't watch any game.  And I look like an idiot.

Summary:  I don't read learning books.  You can ask any Tom Sawyer, Emily Dickinson, or Harry Potter- I'll take a recommendation from anyone just so I don't hurt the recommender's feelings.  And, finally, Ken says if he does a guest-post on this blog it would be a book report of Between the Seas.  I'll try to keep him away.

But, cool fact about the Panama Canal it took 44 years to build and on average 27 workers died a month working on it.

The Bagel Altercation

Hello Denmark viewers! This post is for you.

I was at Winco getting the most fantastic bagels made by man. They make them fresh every single day. They are stinking huge and the variety is incredible. I bet there are at least 15 different types. Jalapeno Cheddar, Megaberry, Cinnamon Raisin, Onion, Herb and Cheese, Asiago. I could go on. I will. Blueberry, Chocolate Chip, Around the World, Veggie Delight. I've tried them all and they are all fabulous. And have I mentioned they are incredibly inexpensive. You can get a dozen bagels for $3.15. So,being a bagel lover I stock up one a week. Twice a week if I am feeling extra carby.

I was there on Friday getting my fix. They are held in fold out bins. All over the bins are labels that say "Please Do Not Use Your Hands." And there is a picture of a hand with the no slash over it. A man in his mid-fifties maybe sixties came up and started cruising the containers. I was already selecting mine and carefully picking them up with the tongs and placing them in my bag. This man opens a container puts his HAND in and starts moving all the bagels around! Not touching one and putting in his bag. Picking it up, examining it, and if it didn't meet his expectations he would put it back! Yes, I was shocked. But I thought Who am I to tell this man what to do? I noticed there weren't any tongs on his side. So when I was done I handed him mine with a smile. A small, innocent gesture. The following ensued:

P: Here you go.

Man: What?

P: Here are some tongs so you can pick your bagels.

M: Why do you think I need those?

P: To pick your bagels out.

M: I'm getting my bagels just fine.

P: Yes, but you are not supposed to use your hands.

M: Are you patrolling this area?

P: No. But there are signs on every container saying not to use your hands and that picture with the hand and the "no-slash" over it.

M: That's a request. It only says please.

P: A request?! No. It's not a request. It's a mandate. You can't use your hands. That's why they provide these tongs. (again presenting man with tongs)

M: Do you think my hands are dirty?

P: No, I don't. But I don't want YOUR hands on MY bagels.

M: As I recall I didn't touch YOUR bagels. I touched MY bagels.

P: Yeah. AND every one that didn't pass your quality control that you put back.

M: Why were you watching me so closely?!

P: I just noticed you! I noticed you were picking the same bagels I like! I noticed you didn't take the time to find a pair of tongs! I noticed you used your hands! And I noticed you put some back AFTER you touched them! Use these!

M: I'm not going to use those tongs!

P: I can't believe you!

M: Well!

P: FINE!!

I slammed the tongs back in their container. And stormed off. I actually couldn't believe myself. Where's my Bagel Police badge? I've obviously earned it. It reminded me of the old Patty. She was fiery. Always picking fights with strangers. A lot like Larry David.

Post Election Day

Today was Election Day. I wore my VOTE necklace. It's so trendy and hip. I got that necklace when I came back from Germany. October 2004. My mom (and sisters I believe) were trying to teach me how to shop. The biggest rule I needed to quit breaking was "Buy essentials." Get a great pair of dark jeans, a go-to pair of khakis, a knock 'em dead pair of boots. A denim fitted jacket and a white and a black sweater turtle neck. Start working from there. They told me to quit buying the latest fashion. Buy something you can wear for more than a couple months. We went to the mall and what do I buy? I necklace that says "Vote." Talk about a temporary accessory. But, I wear it once a year.

That once a year was today. Here's my beef with election day. I went to the school, I waited in line, and I voted. I am a dag gum American after all. I guess it's not the actual day of November 2nd that eats me it's all the before and all the after. For weeks, nay months (!), before signs are posted all over the community. People host parties where candidates comes and tell you how great they are. As the day draws closer there are radio ads with candidates promoting themselves and there are radio ads where they are putting the other guy down. I do my research. I read up on just about every one. There's all this buzzy hub bub.
Election day comes.
You vote.
The winner is announced.
And you never hear from them again.
Unless they cheat on their wife.

I would like to see a bit more follow up. Some continual campaigning. A reminder radio ad here and there letting us know what a great job they are doing. Or heck, even a thank you would be nice. Not all this, "I knew we could do it" bologna. Is that so much to ask? Am I crossing a line here?